Moving Made Easy
by vaughn28
Summary: A story focusing on one of the civilian ships, the Colonial Movers. Did all those captains just agree to follow Commander Adama's orders? What happens when they don't agree? And what happens if one they don't want to be captain anymore? A story of a young woman and a fateful encounter with a certain viper pilot.
1. Chapter 1

Scene – two small boys putting their toy space ships into a box, music plays and the words on the screen scroll…

Who says moving has to be complicated? Across the planet or across the system…Colonial Movers makes moving easy. With climate controlled containers, all your cares will evaporate…while we preserve your household goods just as you left them.

Wiping the grease from the motor onto her pants, the young blonde tried one more connection on the evaporator. It wheezed one time, giving a slight gasp of hope before it turned over with a gear-grinding scrape and was silent.

"You stupid fracking cylon construct!" It was the worse curse she could think up to hurl at the piece of machinery. "Great, just great. I do not need this felgercarb! Not now, do you understand me!" She cursed at the evaporator again.

Her crew had already tried to make repairs to the evaporator, even swapping it out with one of the other evaporators on another of the ship's compartments, a compartment where the passengers wouldn't notice if their air was a little stale and dank, and if they did, so what. They were lucky to have what accommodations they had after escaping the twelve worlds with their lives and little else. Last sectar the compartment she had taken the evaporator from had paid for their passage in potar roots. McKayla had to give the galley detail credit. They had come up with seven different ways to cook potar roots. But after a sectar of nothing but potar roots her crew was getting a little mutinous.

"Next sectar they had better come up with something good, or they can take their chances on the Agro ships!" McKayla thought to herself, knowing that she would never really relegate any passengers to the Agro ships. The Agro ships had the highest civilian casualties ever since the cylons discovered that was how the fleet was feeding the survivors. No food, no humans. The cylons weren't completely stupid it seemed. She had known for a long time that machines could think. Her father had even taught her that machines had moods and feelings. Each one was different and just like people they had needs and wants. More importantly, just like humans, they had good days and bad days. Right now, she and this evaporator were having a bad day. This piece of machinery had it in for her.

"How is it that this evaporator knows this is where my best passengers are? They always pay on time, every sectar, right on schedule, and not just with food. Without these passengers, you wouldn't have the parts you need, did you ever stop and think about that you lazy son of an air conditioner!" She spoke to the machine again as she tried another valve, then wired up another connection.

McKayla did not need this right now. Any minute a detail from the Galactica was about to show up to conduct one of their inspections. She knew she needed to impress them. As one of the youngest skippers in the fleet, and a woman too, they had already talked about giving her ship to someone else. She was hanging on to her father's pride and joy with everything she had. She couldn't let it go, what would her father think of her if she did? This ship was his legacy.

It would have broken his heart to see the ship in the condition it was. He always kept it pristine. It was one of the cleanest and best moving ships in the whole Colonial Movers fleet. The crew used to grumble about how they had to clean out container holds with soap and water when on other ships they would just open up the doors and let the vacuum of space clear out the debris. But her father's crew had also always been assigned to the best customers, the elite of the twelve worlds and all their belongings. Sometimes some of those belongings would come up missing, a common tragedy of having your whole household of possessions shipped from world to world. Suddenly one of the crew members would have a new vid machine, or a new sofa. The customers rarely complained, just filed a claim for the loss. Yes, her father demanded more from his workers, but there were perks for performance. Her father had moved the elite of the colonies, giving them the personal time and attention needed, from politicians to performers, Sires to singers.

Even now they had some of the fleet's best passengers, ones that had noticed that the evaporator was down before her crew had. They noticed when the air got a little stale and a little too rank. She knew this was not the kind of work a Captain should be doing, but she was the only one who had the time to read all the specs on the new evaporators to turn cargo containers into living quarters. In fact, she wasn't sure if half her crew could even read. They learned most of their duties through training's put on by other crewmembers. Plus McKayla had always picked up on new machinery easier than the other crewmembers. She was always mechanically inclined, maybe from spending a lifetime around cargo ships. In fact, she had scored near perfect on the Academy entrance exams when it came to mechanical ability. If the destruction hadn't come, she would have entered the academy this last term.

But she also knew she probably would never have gone. Her father's health had already been failing when she took the exams. Even if the end hadn't come, her father's end was near. His dream had been for her to take over his ship. He would have left it to his sons, had there been sons. But there was only McKayla, her mother having died not long after her birth. She was all her father had, well her and his other baby, his ship. He'd named her too after her mother Rayanna, that over the years had been shortened to Ray. McKayla and his Ray of sunshine. Somedays she didn't know who her father loved more. Somedays, it felt like she had a sibling to compete with, and somedays Ray got all the love.

McKayla's com buzzed, interrupting her thoughts.

"Yeah, go ahead Cael. What's up?"

"We've got company." Cael replied from the bridge.

"Oh Frack!" McKayla cursed realizing that the inspection team was almost here, and there she was up to her elbows in grease and wires.

"How far out Cael?" She hoped for a few more centons.

"You've got five skipper. You better get up here."

"Stall them for a few. I need ten more centons."

"I'll try."

"Okay baby," McKayla spoke to the evaporator again. "Please baby, if you just work for a little while longer I will get you all the grease and parts your little power core could desire. Please for me honey." She tried one more connection and the machine started up with a pleasant hum and the steady hiss of fresh air passing from the vents. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" She cooed actually kissing one of the valves.

She grabbed one of the rags nearby and started wiping grease from her hands as she sprinted for the lift to the landing bay.

"Cael," she said keying her com. "Let them land, I'm ready." McKayla frantically rolled her sleeves back down, fastening the cuffs. She noticed all the grease under her short nails and tried to scrape some of it away.

"I'll meet you in the bay." Cael responded.

The lift opened as she was closing the top fastening of her shirt and readjusting the collar. A lot of her crew had shown up in the bay to watch the vipers land. Lately they had been sending fighter pilots to conduct the inspections as the other engineers were tied up making repairs to the Agro ships and refitting other ships for generating food. That was fine with her. The pilots weren't as thorough as the engineers were. But the pilots brought other problems with them. Last inspection she had lost half of her hangar crew. They'd enlisted to become warriors.

McKayla had understood. It was hard watching those sleek vipers come in for a perfect landing and not want to be a pilot herself. Maybe she would have been had the end not come and she had gone to the academy. She could her hear father saying to her, "Wishing is like fishing, you don't catch anything unless you put your pole in the water." For the first time in her life she finally understood what he meant by that. She'd never get a chance to get close to that pond, not now, not ever. She was in different stream now.

She watched the pilots climb out of their vipers and knew she'd probably lose another hangar crew this inspection. Both pilots were fit and well fed. They were immaculate in their uniforms, medals gleaming with polish. Both of them wore a star cluster, the fleet's highest award. The blonde one even looked tan, not the usual grayish green complexion that most of the inhabitants of the fleet now had.

McKayla turned to Cael and said, "Remind me to talk to Siress Blasie about getting us some of those all spectrum lights, like the Galactica has. I think she has a connection, someone named Chenille."

"Chameleon. Yeah, she trades with him often. She might be able to get us a deal."

"Tell her it would be worth two sectars rent just so I could keep my hangar crew."

"Yeah, we might lose some bridge crew over these two." Cael replied almost under his breath. "These guys are heroes."

"Cael you wouldn't!" She flashed him a look of pure hatred.

"Could you blame me? I'm thinking they eat more than potar roots." He responded his eyes glued to the two warriors as they walked across the bay. Walked was the wrong word. She thought sauntered would be more accurate. The blonde one was smiling and laughing with his darker companion. "Yes," McKayla thought, "I'm going to understand, this guy is gorgeous. The stuff heroes are made of. Who wouldn't want to be like him?"

The darker warrior approached Cael and held out his hand in greeting. "Captain McKay, I'm Lt. Boomer, and this is Lt. Starbuck. We're here for your inspection."

Cael didn't say anything, still awestruck by the uniforms and a bit put off by the confusion. McKayla leaned in between Cael and the Lieutenant and cleared her throat.

"Excuse me, I'm Captain McKayla."

Lt. Boomer dropped his hand and hastily pulled out a data pad, double-checking his information. "It says here Captain McKay."

"I know. Lt. Boomer is it? I've sent in numerous corrections, but everything keeps coming back for a Captain McKay, or just Kay."

"Well, the physical description is right, blond, blue eyed, about 25 yahrens old, everything but the gender." The blond Lieutenant pointed out to his partner. "Looks like they left out the most important information." Lt. Starbuck looked up from the data pad smiling at her. He held out his hand to her. "Nice to meet you Captain McKayla."

She reached out to shake his hand. The blond man held her hand a moment longer than the handshake needed. Making direct eye contact, he flashed her another smile. Mckayla had been around men most of her life and she knew a flirt when she saw one. She also knew how to not let it get to her, or she thought she did. But she didn't let go of his hand as she wondered, so why was this guy getting to her? She smiled back at him and wanted to kick herself for the reaction. What she should do is get down to business and get this guy as far away from her as possible. Instead she found herself cocking her head and wondering if that tan covered all of him and if there was a way she could find out.

The darker Lieutenant spoke up breaking the moment. "So, do you have any problems to report? Any solium leaks or major repairs you need that we haven't gotten to yet?"

She dropped Lt. Starbuck's hand and turned to respond to Lt. Boomer. "No, no leaks. We've gotten to most of the major repairs ourselves."

"How are those new evaporators working out for you?" The warrior consulted his data pad again.

"Great. No problems. Working Perfectly fine."

"Did we catch you in the middle of some maintenance?" Lt. Starbuck asked.

"No, why do you ask?" McKayla asked surprised nearly jumping as the golden hero reached to touch her cheek.

"You've got some grease on your cheek there. Here, let me get it." Lt. Starbuck reached out and gently wiped the smear from her face. She blushed with embarrassment, cursed herself for such a schoolgirl response, but she also didn't move. "There, got it! Wow, this is a great ship. Who would have thought a cargo container would make such a great passenger ship."

"Colonial Movers were known for providing climate controlled shipping, isn't that right Captain McKayla?" Lt. Boomer replied, casting his companion a disapproving look.

She almost choked on her response. "Uh, yes. We are proud of our containers. The most reliable shipping available in the Twelve Worlds was our slogan."

"Your cargo is a little more precious now wouldn't you say?" Lt. Boomer said. "Shall we begin the inspection?"

"Uh, yes sir, right this way."

McKayla could have kicked herself for adding the sir. This guy should be calling her sir, she outranked him sort of, and what did he know about the evaporators, she thought to herself. She had a sense of dread and prayed to the lords that the evaporator on container one held on, at least until she could hurry these two pilots off her ship. Not that she really wanted to see Lt. Starbuck go. He was the best view she'd seen since the nova near Carillion. But her father would have been insulted at having to be inspected. He had run the best ship in the Colonial Movers fleet, and would have pummeled anyone who said any different. The Ray's crew had worked hard. They deserved some recognition, not to be checked up on like errant children. She straightened up and put on her best professional demeanor as she showed the Lieutenants around her ship. She was damned if they'd find anything wrong with her father's baby. She would never let his legacy be tarnished.

"Well, it looks like everything is in order." Lt. Boomer said checking off the last item on his data pad.

Lt. Starbuck smiled and lightly patted McKayla on the back. "Yeah, it looks great!"

Lt. Starbuck had spent most of the inspection chatting with her and her crew, leaving the actual details of the inspection to his partner. The affable Lieutenant told jokes and handed out compliments, and not once did he look at his data pad. If this bothered Lt. Boomer, McKayla couldn't tell as Lt. Starbuck had her engaged for most of the inspection. They had discovered that McKayla and several other crewmembers had grown up near the same town on Caprica as Lt. Starbuck. Most of the inspection had been spent comparing notes on some of the better aspects of that province of Caprica.

McKayla was amazed at how easily the pilot had gotten her and most of her crew to share information about their lives. McKayla had even talked about when she was younger and had been left with one distant relative after another, or in some cases just a friend of her fathers while he was away on some of the longer hauls that would take him on routes out of the colonies.

The blond Lieutenant had told her she was lucky, that at least she knew some of the people she was raised by. Lt. Starbuck began to relate to her some of his horror stories of life as a foster child. Only most of his stories weren't that horrible. In fact, they were quite funny. McKayla had laughed out loud as he told her about the blind man and his deaf wife.

"I would rearrange the furniture every day." Starbuck whispered to her conspiratorially. "He'd be bumping into things and yelling, 'Enid, what did you do?' and she would yell back, 'What did you say?' All day long it was, 'Enid', 'What?' 'Enid!' 'What?'"

They had both gotten a rather annoyed look from Lt. Boomer as they shared the joke. The look only made Starbuck laugh all the louder.

The inspection had gone well, McKayla mused. Even the evaporators had cooperated. Container one's had purred and hummed perfectly within specifications. They finished the inspection back where they had started, in the landing bay. Cael had rejoined them just as they were finishing.

"So how did it go Mick, er, Captain." Cael asked.

"Everything seems to be in order." Lt. Boomer commented again.

"Then I guess you'll be on your way." McKayla said, almost wishing Lt. Starbuck wouldn't be leaving so soon. But she definitely wanted the inspection to be over before one of the evaporators, or some other faulty piece of equipment conked out.

"Just as soon as we input the coordinates and arrange everything to link you up with the Agro ship and transfer command to Capt. Dastor." Lt. Boomer said consulting his data pad once again.

Cael was quicker to catch what the Lieutenant had said.

"What?!" Cael turned to McKayla, "The Agro ship?! What in the Hades Hole!"

She reached out a hand to silence her officer before turning to Lt. Boomer.

"Excuse me, but there must be some mistake."

"No mistake. Colonial Movers is to link up with the Agro ship to provide extra quarters and to transfer command to the Captain of the Agro ship, Capt. Dastor. According to my information you should have received an interfleet memo on this over a sectar ago." He consulted his data pad again.

"I didn't get any memo on this. There is no way I would approve something like that."

"Well of course you didn't get the memo, it was addressed to a Captain Kay." Starbuck added sarcastically.

"No, I respond to everything we get, especially to memos addressed to a Captain Kay. There was no memo on this. There is no way I would approve this!"

"We don't need your approval for this. It's a direct order from the Commander." Lt. Boomer stated factually.

She took a step back, cutting her eyes between the two Colonial Warriors.

"Since when did I enlist?" McKayla pulled herself more erect, trying to use the tone that made the crew jump.

"What was that Captain?" Lt. Boomer asked in a guarded tone.

"When did I enlist? Last I checked I am not under the command of anyone. This is my ship!"

Lt. Boomer glanced at his partner perplexed before responding to her. "Look, we are all in this together and Commander Adama is in charge of this fleet."

"That does not give him the right to take my ship and crew!" McKayla shouted. "We own this ship. It's the crew that got us away from the Colonies and have kept us running until now! Commander Adama had nothing to do with that!"

"Look here Captain!" Lt. Boomer shouted back, taking a step forward, using his height to loom over her. His hand immediately went to his weapon remembering back to the first days after the destruction, the crowded conditions and the survivors near panic and in the mood to riot. His friend's hand on his arm halted the instinct to draw his weapon.

"Boomer, she has a point." Starbuck said calmly, stepping in front of his partner before Boomer could get into a shouting match with Captain McKayla.

"You're taking her side? I do not believe you sometimes Starbuck." Boomer had been slightly annoyed with all the jokes and flirting his buddy had been doing, but hadn't said anything until now as it kept the young Captain out of his way as he went about the inspection. But now, this was too much.

"Well, she does have a point. I mean, she says she didn't get the memo, addressed to her or to a Captain Kay. Least we could do is check the communication logs and find out where the problem is. I'm sure there's some explanation." Starbuck looked over at McKayla and could see that she was still fuming. "Is it okay if we go to the bridge and take a look at your communication logs? I'm sure we can clear this up."

"We can access those logs from a terminal right over there." McKayla pointed to a station near the rear of the bay, not wanting these warriors anywhere near her father's bridge.

"Thanks!" Starbuck said cheerfully. "This will only take a second, right Boomer?"

"Right. I'm sure you just overlooked it Captain." Lt. Boomer almost sneered the implication that she had simply ignored an order she didn't like. Boomer let Starbuck lead him off to the terminal.

Cael waited until the pilots were out of range before he asked frantically, "What do we do? Being beside the Agro ship is like a death sentence, you know that right? The cylons will pick us off easily!"

McKayla kept her eyes on the pilots as she answered him. "Head up to the bridge. Put in a call to the Galactica and find out what is going on." She turned toward Cael, "Then contact Siress Blasie and tell her what's going on. Make sure she has an open comlink to anywhere she wants. Then contact Captain Sipes on the Cancerian Cargo ship, Captain Harcek of the Virgon Transport Barge, and anyone else you can think of who knew my dad."

"No problem. I'll contact everyone he worked with." Cael glanced down at the woman who even though she was Captain was many years his junior. "Are you going to be able to handle these two?"

"Sure, no problem. I am my father's daughter." Cael had started to walk away when she grabbed his arm to stop him. He looked back at her again. "Seal the bay on your way out."

"You got it." Cael cast the warriors a wary look before he quickly headed for the bridge.


	2. Chapter 2

Scene – A young girl taking the furniture and dolls from her doll house to put them in a box, pan back to show a mother in the background taking the china from the cupboard and putting it in a box. Then the words, in a soft woman's voice: Choose Colonial Movers where we understand, it's not just a house, it's a home.

She squared her shoulders, put on what her father called her "bossy pants" look, and walked towards the two pilots who were finishing up at the terminal, her terminal, on her ship. She ignored the dazzling smile Lt. Starbuck flashed knowing once again the lesson her father had tried to teach her about people and their stuff, don't be fooled by the price tag. All that glitters is not gold.

It was Lt. Boomer, the warrior that was more down to business, that spoke to her.

"Well Captain, it appears you are right. You never did get the memo. "I've notified the Galactica of the problem and they said you should contact your fleet representative right away and Engineering will be contacting you."

"So the inspection is over and you will be on your way. Thanks for clearing that up and it was nice meeting you." She waved her hand to indicate their vipers.

"Now wait a micron, we still have our orders. You are to link up with the Agro ship to provide extra quarters for their crew and farmers, and we are also supposed to be using one of your containers, number eight, for salvage. You were never able to get the atmosphere control on that container, is that correct."

"No that is not correct. I didn't even try to because It was never meant to have atmosphere. That container was used for industrial purposes only and it would most likely be disasterous to even try. So I didn't waste my time and resources on a fool's errand." McKayla glared at the Lieutenant, but he did not back down. He didn't even flinch from her icy stare, just calmly moved his hand to rest on the handle of his laser.

The movement had the right effect on Her. She knew that if these warriors really wanted to, they could take her ship by force, just the two of them. Colonial Movers was unarmed, always had been. Her father had always felt that the best way to avoid space pirates was to pay the bribes, and report the losses. Conflict in the form of weapons just led to bloodshed, usually your own. There were probably only five or six lasers on the whole ship, owned mostly by passengers.

She understood how bribes and protection worked. She'd have to lose the container and she wondered if that's how it would end, her getting rid of her father's hopes and dreams one container at a time. No, she wouldn't let that happen, but she could lose container 8. It was small and worthless on a long haul.

"Look, I'm willing to part with container number eight." She conceded. "I know there is enough metal and wiring in there to make at least five vipers and have some left over for repairs on other ships. But there is no way I am relinquishing command of this ship."

Lt. Boomer opened his mouth as if to continue the argument, but Starbuck stopped him before he could say anything. "You know Boomer, we really should check this out. There's obviously been a mistake. This really is a matter for the civilian division. We were supposed to just do the inspection and input coordinates. Engineering is handling the actual transfer. And she's willing to part with the container, right?" Starbuck looked over towards the young Captain, who nodded ascent. "That is very nice of you, I mean, without the benefit of the memo and everything. I tell you what Boomer, we're almost off duty, why don't we head back to the Galactica and see if we can clear this up, and then we'll come back and input the coordinates tomorrow, okay?"

Boomer stared at his partner for a moment and the two seemed to share some sort of information. McKayla wasn't sure if she liked what they were saying without words, that is until Lt. Boomer relaxed his stance. "Yes, I suppose you are right Starbuck. We should clear up the problem first. But I can tell the forge ship to come get the container?"

"Yes, no problem." She said said curtly.

"Then I guess we'll be on our way." Lt. Boomer replied. He started to turn away, then turned back. "Oh by the way Captain, you had a new message from a Sires Blasie. She said the evaporator on Container one is down."

She suppressed the wince, hoped it came off as just a long blink. "That's odd. I'll be sure to get right on it. Must be something minor."

It was the first smile she'd seen on the darker warrior's face, "Well, she went on to say that it's the fifth time this sectar and if you don't get something done about it she's withholding next sectar's rent." Lt. Boomer smirked, then turned and walked away.

"Frack!" Rayanna muttered to herself under her breath not realizing how close the other warrior was standing to her. Lt. Starbuck started to laugh. He held out his hand to her. She didn't take it, instead choosing to glare at him. For some reason, it made Lt. Starbuck laugh even harder.

"Look, he's just kidding with you. I'm sure we can work all this out." Starbuck reached out and rubbed her arm as if he were trying to cheer up an old friend. "It's going to be okay, honest. You have my word on it, my word as a Warrior."

McKayla knew that he had her, that she wanted to believe him, and almost did. Until he added that 'word as a warrior' part. That felgercarb he could stow in container eight. All the warriors had done for her so far was provide a bit of fuel and then threaten to take her ship for the cost of it.

She froze as Lt. Starbuck leaned down to whisper to her, his lips brushing her hair as he said, "By the way, nice move sealing the bay. That was a good one. Keep everyone else out and get us out of here, good thinking. Were you planning on letting us leave, or were you going to keep me hostage, because I make a mighty fine captive, and I'm not sure I can fight the hold you have on me."

He pulled back and smiled at her surprised look, then turned to join his partner. Starbuck was still laughing as he climbed into his viper.

She shook her head and keyed her comm, "Cael, let them leave. I want them off my ship."

Lt. Starbuck flashed her a smile and a wave before he sealed up his canopy. She could almost hear her dead father's words, "Real gold has ruined more lives than fool's gold."

"Frack! I knew this was going to be a bad day." She said to herself as she watched the blond Lieutenant launch in that dream he called a viper.

Scene – A new home, woman and young girl (about 5 yahrens old) unpacking boxes

Woman says surprised – My grandmother's dishes don't even have a scratch!

Young girl – And my tea set doesn't have a scratch either!

Woman and young girl hug.

Announcer – At Colonial Movers, every cargo is precious.

Colonel Tigh had other matters to attend to than a missing memo and an upset civilian captain. He was in the middle of trying to provide armaments for some of the various unarmed outer ships in the fleet, distributing navigational reports to the picket ships, coordinating patrol schedules, and checking data on the next sector on the fleet's route. In fact, he thought to himself, I shouldn't be dealing with this at all. If he stopped to deal with every upset captain amongst the 200 odd ships that comprised the fleet, he realized he'd never get anything accomplished.

"Lt. Boomer, you should be bringing this up with Capt. Apollo. He's the one who assigned you two to the engineering division for inspections. Or better yet, why don't you consult with engineering on this one. I'm sure they can settle the matter." Colonel Tigh handed Lt. Boomer back the data pad with the inspection data, expecting to be done with the matter.

"Well, we did sir, but it seems that the orders originally came from you sir."

"Look Lieutenant, I sign off on a lot of orders. I cannot keep track of every memo and order that leaves this bridge. Check with engineering on this one."

"Like I said sir, we did. They told us to talk with you. That the Colonial Mover's ship is civilian so it's a matter for the command staff on the Galactica."

"Plus Colonel," Lt. Starbuck added, "it seems since we departed the Colonial Movers ship, Colonial Movers and several of the other civilian ships, mostly cargo transports, have reported engine failures and will be falling behind the fleet."

"Lieutenant, I'm not sure what this has to do with the command staff. Engine problems and ships falling behind are very common. And it is engineering's concern, or navigation's or…"

"Or for the Council of Twelve." Commander Adama said entering the bridge.

"Commander, weren't you supposed to be getting some rest?" Colonel Tigh said, casting a grim look at the two lieutenants.

"Yes I was. But I was interrupted by several calls from council members. It seems that a Siress Blasie is upset about the placement of the ship where she has her current lodgings. Were you aware Colonel that Siress Blasie, and several other prominent citizens had transferred their residences to the Colonial Movers ship?"

"No sir, I wasn't. I thought Siress Blasie was living on the Senior ship along with Lt. Starbuck's friend Chameleon."

"Yes, so did I." Adama cast a suspicious look towards Starbuck, "Starbuck, do you know anything about this?"

"Well…" Starbuck said leaning back against railing of the command dais trying to decide just how much information to divulge. But nothing missed the Commander's notice.

"Yes lieutenant?" Commander Adama asked slightly amused. "This ought to be good," he mumbled aloud.

"Well, you see there was this matter of a card game, and it seems several of the residents on the Senior ship became very upset."

Adama rolled his eyes before he interrupted his warrior. "I don't want to know the details Lieutenant. I just want to know if you were aware that Siress Blasie had transferred her lodgings to the Colonial Movers?"

"If by aware do you mean helping Chameleon move some items, then yes I was aware. And for the record, it was actually Siress Blasie's fault. It seems that she plays by different rules for some card games. She takes her Bridge game quite seriously."

"Starbuck, I said I don't want to know the details!" Adama didn't know if he should laugh or groan. Some of his biggest problems of commanding this fleet had come from the sector of the population that was older and should know better how to comport themselves as representatives of the elite of the twelve worlds. Siress Blasie was just one of the few who had created their own conflicts and dramas that could rival the attacking cylons. In fact, Adama found he sometimes wished the cylons would attack to silence all of the petty squabbling amongst the civilian sector. Martial law would be easier to maintain with the enemy nipping at their heels. But for several sectons the scanners had been clear, and his comm had chimed more than necessary with one complaint after another.

"Well Sir," Lt. Starbuck interrupted his thoughts, "She does take her cards quite seriously, and it seems some of her companions agreed with her version of the rules. Plus they were getting tired of dealing with all the old fogies on the Senior ship. Most of their belongings were already in storage on the Colonial Movers, so it just made sense."

Adama shook his head of course, where one Siress, went, several more followed.

"Thank you Lieutenant for that detailed briefing. It appears, Colonel Tigh, that the council would like me to reconsider my decision to transfer command of Colonial Movers to the Agro ship. So do you mind briefing me on when I decided that transferring commands of civilian ships would be a good idea?"

Tigh cleared his throat and looked down in embarrassment. "Well, actually sir, it was decided in one of the Secton meetings that we hold for the Civilian Captains of several of the fleet's vessels. It appeared to be a good allocation of resources that was suggested by Capt. Dastor."

"Ah yes, Dastor, and he would be Captain of the Agro ship, am I correct?"

"Yes Commander."

"And what did Capt. McKay have to say about this proposal?" Adama had been in high command long enough to know that transferring commands of ships was never a simple affair. Oh it might look like it to those in the ranks below, but often a change of command involved yahrens of political maneuvering. Many parties, and award ceremonies, dinners and drinks were where those decisions were made. Rarely in briefings and meetings which were often just a place to announce what had already happened behind closed doors, or at the party last secton. It seemed that those types of deals were not unique to the military service.

"Well, actually it's Capt. McKayla," Tigh said suddenly looking down at his datapad for the information, a gesture that was very unlike his Colonel. He too had been preoccupied with matters he thought were far more important than the squabbling civilians. He looked up realizing where the problem may lie, "and she did not attend that meeting."

"Or any meetings from what the council has told me." Adama added for him.

"Sir?"

"Yes, the council informs me that all communications have been addressed to a Capt. Kay, not McKayla, and half of those communications have been misdirected to the Cancerian Cargo Carriers!" Dr. Salik had warned Adama that his blood pressure was on the high side, and it was these kind of mistakes, ones that on the surface seemed small, but like a crack that eventually fractures a bulkhead, that were the culprit. His heart palpitations certainly were not a luxurious lifestyle as ambrosia was now rare, as was red meat. No, it was the minutia of details involved in running a fleet of this size that was unused to the precision and delegation of military command. Every Captain insisted on talking to the Commander. There were just not enough microns in the day and added to his rising blood pressure, he was tired

Tigh must have read the look on his face, understood where he had failed the Commander as he began, "Sir, I can explain…"

"Don't bother Tigh , the council has already explained for you! By the Lords Tigh, I do not need this right now. I am battling with the council every day to maintain some semblance of control and order within this fleet." Adama was now yelling. Although he didn't need to yell to be heard as the bridge took on an eerie silence. All except a slight chuckle, coming from the direction of one blond lieutenant.

"Do you find something funny, Lt. Starbuck?" Adama roared turning towards the snickering pilot. "Because I don't find this the least bit funny! I have several Captains threatening to pull out of this fleet, leaving their passengers vulnerable and at the prey of the Cylons, which are only moments behind us. Do you find that humorous Lieutenant?"

Starbuck suddenly stopped smiling.

"Well do you?" Adama asked again, clearly agitated.

"No sir, uh, not at all." Starbuck said coming to attention. The commander glared at him for a moment more, before turning back to continue chewing out Colonel Tigh.

It was Starbuck's voice that halted him before he could continue voicing his frustration. "But sir, I do think you're making a mistake."

Adama turned back to the lieutenant fully intending to vent the rest of his fury on the brash warrior.

"I am making a mistake? What do you mean by that Lieutenant? You certainly would be a good judge of mistakes, now wouldn't you." The critical jibe did not silence his warrior like Adama thought it should.

"Well, yes, that's true sir, but it seems to me that maybe if you asked, she might just give it up."

"Starbuck, she sealed us in the landing bay, remember? Plus she's charging those passengers rent!" Lt. Boomer said.

Starbuck turned towards his friend, but kept an eye on the Commander, "A lot of the ships charge rent. Why do you think Chameleon is living on Colonial Movers and not the Rising Star? He can't afford the rent."

"Commander, are you aware of this?" Lt. Boomer asked appalled.

"Unfortunately yes. I am not pleased about it, but I have been unable to come up with a good solution to stop the problem. So for now I allow it to continue. As long as it's not exorbitant and refugees are not left out in the cold, so to speak."

"And she didn't seal us in the bay until after you tried ordering her around. You know she had a good point Boomer, she never did enlist in the colonial service. She is a civilian and doesn't have to do what we tell her to do."

"That's true Lieutenant." Commander Adama added. "Of course we don't have to supply her ship with fuel, or water or food supplies either. Or for that matter, spare parts, repairs, navigational coordinates, viper support…"

"Well yes sir, you do have a point there sir." The use of the unfamiliar respect was not lost on Adama, but he let the warrior continue. He did seem to understand the situation far better than Colonel Tigh. "But I think she knows you're not just going to leave those passengers to fend for themselves either. You couldn't do that."

"I most certainly could Lieutenant. It's what I should do. In fact, I should probably just take the ship by force. Last I checked most of the cargo carriers are unarmed and we are under martial law." Adama said, casting a knowing look to Colonel Tigh, that this problem should not have even reached the level of Commander, or even Colonel. It should have been resolved quickly and quietly.

"Yeah, and like I said, you're making a mistake, uh, sir." Starbuck added hastily. "I mean, wouldn't that put you in even more hot water with the council, not to mention several of the other civilian ships?"

Starbuck was right of course, but it didn't stop Adama from crossing his arms and taking a step towards his Lieutenant. "I suppose you have a few suggestions?"

"Actually I do sir. Like I said, I bet if you asked, she'd give it up. I mean, she is young, and has pretty much inherited a big responsibility. One I bet she hadn't planned on."

"That may be true." Colonel Tigh added. "Our records show the original Captain of Colonial Movers when they joined the fleet was her father a Captain McKabe. He died four sectars after the destruction. Heart failure from the rumors. Sometime after crossing the void."

"Exactly." Starbuck replied. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a pretty judge of character, and by the way she was eyeing our vipers, I think she kind of had other plans than winding up running a refugee ship in a fleet of fleeing survivors."

The Commander sighed, then said, "Yes but Lieutenant, I think we all had other plans than what we are facing now. Get to the point."

"I'm just saying that it was her father's ship before the destruction, right? And it fell to her by default when he passed on, right? But who wakes up and goes, 'Gee, I hope I get to Captain a rundown cargo ship in the middle of an apocalypse.' Not exactly a very glamorous career for a young woman who seems pretty smart. I'm just saying, a little ambrosia, the lights down low, the right music playing, I could work something out." Starbuck said with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"You could work something out?" Adama sneered. "What are you suggesting Lieutenant?" The Commander's tone was less than amused.

"Well, since you were supposed to be getting some rest, why don't we talk it over in your quarters with a glass of ambrosia maybe."

Commander Adama seemed ready to explode again. The bridge tensed. Everyone held their breath waiting for the Commander to finally give Lt. Starbuck the lashing he surely deserved for his audacity. But instead, the Commander began to laugh out loud.

"Okay Starbuck, I'll give you ten centons to explain this plan of yours. You certainly cannot screw this up any more than it already has been." Adama gestured for Starbuck to join him as he left the bridge. Just before exiting, Adama stopped and turned to Colonel Tigh. "Colonel, could you please see that Colonial Movers records are changed to reflect a Captain McKayla, and forward her all of the past communications that were misdirected, and double check for any other Captains that may have been absent at these Captain's meetings."

"I'll get right on that sir." The colonel replied, casting an angry glance at several of the bridge officers.

They may have escaped the Commander's wrath this time, but they had the Colonel's to deal with now.


	3. Chapter 3

Colonial Movers offers climate-controlled atmosphere on all their containers.

Because space freezer burn can leave you feeling a little cold towards your shipper.

McKayla had been busy for the rest of the cycle repairing the evaporator on Container number one. She stripped wires and greased valves while dictating responses to messages to Cael over the com link. All of the interfleet memos had caught up to her. She could hear her father's voice as he said, "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it." Sometimes she hated that her father was always right.

Several of the newer messages were from other Captains pledging their support. It seemed that many of the civilian captains had been forced to follow command orders that they did not appreciate. She knew that some of the support was due to loyalty to her father and she was surprised and touched that so many would remember him. But she also knew that a lot of support was due to Cael's efforts. He had worked with her dad for over ten yahrens and had many connections of his own.

She didn't want to guess how much of the support was due to other Captain's complaints with command orders. In fact, it had not been her idea to report engine problems and a need to pull back in the fleet. That had been Capt. Harcek's idea. Cael had agreed and reported the problem to the Galacita before McKayla had a chance to decide if that was the best action to take. She and Cael had argued over the decision. In fact, it was one of the few times they had ever disagreed. Cael had treated her as Captain and owner of the ship ever since her dad had died, but she knew she couldn't hold on to the ship and crew without Cael. It was something that remained unspoken between them. Cael never second-guessed her orders, not in front of the crew. If her orders were wrong, he let her learn from the mistake before offering his suggestions.

Of course, McKayla usually asked for his advice first before dealing with the crew. This wasn't the military. Her mechanics could quit anytime they wanted, or worse, move to another ship and take all their tools with them. Keeping a civilian crew happy and positions filled was a delicate dance between bullying and bonuses. Several sectons of nothing but potar roots on the menu was not helping her keep her crew. She'd need to find some other incentives. Or maybe she should just tell them the truth. If they didn't help her keep the ship running and stop reporting problems to the Galactica engineers, they were going to be sitting in between the two agro ships the bullseye to the target the cylons had chosen. That might just do it. Help me or we all die.

But instead of telling the crew the truth, Cael had decided they would defy the Commander and she was afraid that without consulting her, he had started a fire that was quickly burning out of control. She didn't want to mutiny. She just wanted to keep command of her ship and not be put in the line of fire. But she trusted Cael. He had been there for her after her dad died, and he was here for her now, not a second in command really, more like an uncle. She had wondered if he had thought he would take over the ship upon the death of her father. It's actually what she expected, but Cael had been the one that had handed her the keys as he called her Captain. It wasn't until now that she wondered why.

Her father had often said that the worst thing he had ever done was accept the promotion to Captain. She thought he had been joking all those yahrens ago. Maybe he was and she just now got the joke as she rubbed at her temples and the headache that was building. She respected the other Captain's, appreciated that they understood her yahren's of experience from having ran her father's books and scheduling his cargo runs for over ten yahrens. She definitely wanted their advice and support now. She just wasn't sure about committing such a mutinous act. Her crew was anxious about the cylons and being far from the fleet. Cael kept reassuring them that everything would be fine. They all breathed a sigh of relief when several of the other cargo and transport carriers began reporting that they needed to slow due to engine problems and began taking up positions near the Colonial Movers. One transport was even armed. Not heavily, but at least enough to provide a small sense of security.

McKayla also knew she had Siress Blasie to thank for all her efforts. McKayla had a suspicion that it was Siress Blasie's presence on her ship that encouraged the Galactica to slow and remain within contact range and she had already spoken to a Colonel about the communications issue.

The next message after that had been the one that surprised her the most. It had been from a member of the Council of Twelve, a Sire Uri. McKayla had an instant dislike for the man, but she couldn't refuse his offer of a chance to discuss the current issue and state her position before the council.

She was playing with the big boys now, thanks to Siress Blasie. The least she could do was to get the evaporator up and running. That, and conveniently forget to collect next sectar's rent from the passengers in container number one.

She had finally gotten the evaporator running again by stripping parts from the one on Container six. She wasn't meeting with the council until early next cycle, So with the few centaurs she had before sleep cycle, she watched the evaporator, fine-tuning and making adjustments to see that it kept running. She was listening intently to the hum while adjusting another valve, when the buzz from her com jolted her to attention.

"Yeah what now Cael?" She snapped, having clipped her hand on one of the gears as she yanked it out in surprise.

"We've got company." He replied.

"Great. Tell them thanks for their support, the usual, and I'll get with them later."

"Mick, it's not that kind of company. A viper from the Galactica. It's Lt. Starbuck and he's asking for you."

"What the frack? Why?"

"Not sure, and I'm not liking that he's planning to land. Get up her now!"

"I'm on my way." McKayla answered already sprinting for the lift. She rounded the corner almost running over Siress Blasie.

"Oh Siress, I'm so sorry!"

"That's quite alright Captain. I know you've been busy." The Siress said in her slow and melodic voice. "I was wondering if I could take a moment of your time to discuss a few things."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Actually I have an urgent matter on the bridge that needs my attention."

"Well, perhaps after that then."

"Most definitely Siress Blasie. In fact, I was going to look for you once I was finished with this evaporator."

"Oh yes, thank you so much. The air is already much fresher."

"Well, if you'll excuse me then." McKayla made to walk away but the Siress held her position in the middle of the corridor.

"Why don't I join you on the bridge? That way you won't have to seek me out once you are finished? Yes? Shall we?" The Siress turned and walked onto the lift that was waiting.

"Uh, yeah, okay." McKayla couldn't find the words to refuse the Siress. She was very conscious of the class and power that Siress Blasie represented. It wafted from the woman like the Siresses expensive perfume. McKayla was suddenly very aware of the layers of grease on her own clothing and her odor of sweat. In the lift, Siress Blasie made polite small talk as McKayla tried to stand as far away as possible from the Siress, lest any grease should wind up on the woman's exquisite gown.

When they reached the bridge, Siress Blasie said, "I'll just take a wait here out of the way until you are done," before taking a seat at the back of the room that was indeed out of the way. The woman gave McKayla a polite smile and made a shooing motion towards the center of the bridge.

"About time you got here!" Cael said, then took notice of Siress Blasie, who waved politely to Cael giving him her flirty little smile. "Oh, had other matters to take care of I see." Cael said sarcastically. McKayla tried not to laugh. The Siress had flirted shamelessly with Cael since the moment she arrived, and it had left him feeling like a vermin in the sights of a bird of prey. He had dealt with the elite of the twelve worlds, but usually behind a clipboard as he checked off their cargo and asked for their signatures before they dismissed him like any other servant they dealt with. He was not the usual liason between the client and the contract. That was Leon's job, or her fathers or McKayla's on occasion. Leon was the real charm of Colonial Movers with his smile and boy next door looks. He often masqueraded as her father's son, to add that homey atmosphere that Colonial Movers was known for. But Leon had taken a vacation to celebrate the armistice with his family. He wasn't along for their last and what would be final move. Her father had looked for Leon and his family amongst the survivors, sure that his connections would have gotten him on any ship leaving the spaceport. He had not been amongst the survivors, and Cael by default had to take over his job as well as his own. He was uncomfortable dealing with the passengers without his clipboard.

McKayla flashed Cael a sympathetic look, ignoring his comment. "So what does the Lieutenant want?"

"I don't know. Keeps asking to speak to you and offering to land. I told him you're working on a problem with the atmosphere controls on the bay."

"Thanks for thinking of that one. I wasn't sure how we were going to keep warriors off the ship if they insisted on landing."

"No, that problem is for real. It's okay though. I've got Shane working on it. Should have it fixed in about twenty centons."

McKayla roller her eyes and shook her head in disgust, then opened the com link to the Viper.

"Nice to see you again Lt. Starbuck. What brings you back here?"

"Well, I've been assigned to provide an escort for your shuttle to the council meeting tomorrow, and I had the evening off, so I thought I'd check up on you. Boy, you have been busy haven't you? I mean, first an evaporator goes down, then engine problems, and now you're having atmosphere problems in your landing bay. It's been a busy day for you."

She grimaced. This guy's attempt at playing dumb wasn't working on her. He knew too much, but what she couldn't figure out is why a viper pilot would be so concerned about the Colonial Mover's problems. "I appreciate you checking up on us., but we've got it all under control."

"I'm sure you do," Starbuck interrupted. "You strike me as a very capable captain. It is funny though how you started having engine problems right after we left."

McKayla waited a beat before responding, trying to gauge the Lieutenant. When it was apparent he had nothing further to add, she responded, "Well, you know how those things happen. You just never know when these old engines are going to act up."

"Yeah, that's true. But it sure is funny how several other ships started having engine problems too."

"Alright," McKayla thought to herself. "So the Lieutenant has figured things out. Give the smart warrior another medal."

She spoke to the pilot again, "I'm sure those other captains aren't laughing. This is no joke."

The pilot didn't hesitate before responding, "Oh I'm sure they don't appreciate the irony of it like I do. But you say you have it under control?"

"Yes, all under control."

"Well then, I was wondering, since it's all under control, if maybe you'd like to head over early and maybe catch some dinner on the Rising Star. I'm sure I could arrange some accommodations for you for the night, and then you'd be there first thing at the beginning of the cycle. I mean, there's no telling how far behind the fleet you may wind up. It might take you a while to catch up, wasted time in a shuttle. Besides, I'm pretty sure it's been a long time since you've had a decent meal. I promise, no potar roots are on the menu."

McKayla did not know what to think. The pilot knew far more than he should about her ship. Was he looking for his own promotion? Now why would a viper jockey want a cargo ship? She voiced her confusion to Cael, "What is this guy up to?"

Cael shrugged his shoulders. "No idea, but I don't like him."

"Yeah you and my father, you never liked anyone."

The pilot continued across the comm, "Dinner's on me. I hear there's a new band in the lounge. You could use a break after such a long day. It would be like a date."

Cael's eyebrows went up at that as he mouthed the words, "Date?"

McKayla would be lying if she didn't admit she was tempted. She had only been to the Rising Star once and it was with a bunch of her crew. They had had a terrific time. Well worth the hangovers they all suffered the next cycle, but it had been just her and her crew. It had been forever since she had spent time with anyone else and frankly, she was getting a bit sick of Shane's lack of hygiene, Rick's same old dirty jokes, and Yuri's bumbling compliments that were the closest he got to making a pass at her. When her father was around, far too many men had been intimidated out of asking her out. Her dad had even kept a laser for a few short yahrens when she was in school, "Just as a precaution for any boys who get any ideas."

She was flattered that the warrior would ask her out, even if he had some other motive. It had been a long long time since she had been flirted with. But McKayla knew the warrior had to want something other than a dinner and a drink.

The pilot interrupted her thoughts, "So what do you say? Will you go out with me to the Rising Star?"

McKayla shut off the comm before she spoke to Cael, "What is this guy up to? Does he have a stake in all this?"

Siress Blasie spoke up from the back of the bridge. "Oh I assure you Captain McKayla, Lt. Starbuck is a very forthright fellow. In fact, I'm quite familiar with the warrior. I'm sure he only has the best intentions."

Both Cael and McKayla stared back at the Siress, having forgotten her presence.

"He is a dear friend of mine and I assure you, he is most sincere."

"Uh huh," it was Cael that answered the Siress before flashing a wary look to McKayla.

"So what do you say Mickey, is it a date?" The pilot asked again.

McKayla flushed crimson as she answered the pilot. "Sure, yes, sounds great. Give me about thirty centons to solve the atmosphere problem, then I can launch the shuttle and meet up with you."

"Great! I'll be waiting!" The pilot signed off.

Cael gave McKayla a warning look. "What are YOU up to?" he asked.

"Just playing the cards I've been dealt." She cast a look back at the Siress, and added, "Siress Blasie vouches for him. Besides, I haven't eaten yet. I hear its Potar Roots again."

Cael shook his head in disgust. "I don't like this. Your father wouldn't like this."

She snapped back, "Well he's dead, so he can't voice his opinion, now can he? Besides you and he never liked me dating."

Cael pitched his voice low so the Siress couldn't overhear, "Is that what you think this is, a date? You see the same guy I did? He's a serpent if ever I saw one. You think he wants to be with the likes of you?"

McKayla let the insult go. She knew what he really meant. This wasn't a real date, this had to be something else.

"I know. I'll be careful. You've got control of things here?" Cael nodded. "Good, I'm going to go clean up and see if I can solve this problem, or at least put on my serpent stomping shoes. Let me know when you've solved the atmosphere problem."

"Oh Captain, I suggest you wear that black uniform you have." The Siress spoke up from the back of the bridge. "You look quite good in that outfit."

"Oh yeah, Siress Blasie, what did you want to speak to me about? I have a few moments."

"Oh, it was nothing really. It can certainly wait until another time. You go and enjoy yourself." Siress Blasie flashed a smile that McKayla thought looked an awful lot like Lt. Starbuck's smile. The Siress left the bridge humming to herself.

"What was that all about?" Cael grumbled.

McKayla answered puzzled, "I don't know. But she is on our side, right?"

"I think she's on our team. But she's known for changing the rules to the game. You watch yourself."

"I will. I'll bring you back something from the Rising Star." McKayla added.

"Just don't bring me anything from the Agro ship, certainly not coordinates to sit beside them."

"I know, I'll bring you Potar Roots soufflé, or how about Potar Roots in a bernaise sauce?"

Cael groaned at the joke. "Not funny Mick. You won't be Captain much longer if you keep feeding your crew potar Roots!"


	4. Chapter 4

Opening scene…a home, items are in boxes, the movers are dressed in tuxedoes. Candelabra's are on the boxes, a fancy chandelier is just being packed in a box. The owners of the home are in formal wear, a stunning gown for the wife. Music is playing and the husband and wife are dancing…Husband dips wife….

Cue announcer: Trust your move to Colonial movers, where we believe moving should be a celebration, not a chore.

She'd used more water than was probably fair, but frack, if being Captain didn't give you the right to a hot degreasing, then surely fixing that evaporator when no one else could did. She had no idea what to do about her hair and it had been forever since she had worn make up. She ended up just leaving her hair down, and wiping off half of the face paint she'd applied before Cael commed her to announce that the atmosphere had been fixed in the bay. He came down to the shuttle to see her off and to give her a status report on which Captains and ships were pledging their support. He also had to give her a good ribbing when he noticed that she had chosen to wear the black outfit that Siress Blasie had recommended.

"It was the only thing clean, alright." McKayla had grumbled, but she also had to admit to herself that the Siress was right. It did look good on her, for a moving company uniform that is.

"Well don't get so wrapped up in having a good time that you forget what's going on back here." Cael said as he followed her into the shuttle.

"Don't worry. I know the score." She said, taking a seat and beginning to run through the preflight check. 

"See that we stay in the lead."

She looked up at Cael and saw the worry and fatigue. She suddenly wondered if she had aged as much as Cael had seemed to in the last sectars. She must have for the Lieutenants to have believed the exaggeration on her age. She was several yahrens below what she had told the fleet, but the long haul that seemed to have no destination and the death of her father had definitely made her feel older than she was. She would give anything to go back to the days where her biggest concern was hiding her short skirt and bright red lipstick from her father's conservative criticism. She sighed heavily as she went back to the controls.

"I won't let you down Cael. Maybe this Sire Uri can help us out."

"Yeah, I'm not sure I like that idea. We've got enough Sires and Siresses dictating how things are run here. Don't forget that your father owned this ship outright. Don't sell him short."

"So do you want to come along and make sure I don't screw this up?" She asked sarcastically, but kind of meaning it too.

"Oh, I don't think the Lieutenant would appreciate a third wheel on that date he has planned." Cael chuckled and McKayla flashed him an annoyed look, but he ignored it as he continued his advice. "I know you can handle him and the Galactica too. It's the other Captains I'm more worried about. What does Dastor want? And now with Sire Uri and Siress Blassie in the mix. There's too many hands at the table Mick and Blassie cheats."

"I know, I know, but she pays so well." She admitted the fact they both knew. Siress Blassie provided many of the luxuries on the freighter, as well as the necessities. But she demanded things in return. "Could you check on that evaporator before you go down for sleep cycle?"

Cael sighed before he replied. "Yeah I will but you know there's probably nothing I can do about it if it goes down. Try to remember that while you're living it up on your date. The Lieutenant's waiting." Cael started to walk out of the shuttle, repeating as he exited, "Don't forget about us back here."

But Cael halted in the hatch of the shuttle before stepping back in and out of the way for Siress Blassie to enter. She batted her eyes at Cael as she placed a hand to his chest. He backed away from that hand like it was hot rivet. The Woman turned her sweet smile to McKayla.

"Oh good, I caught you before you departed! I was hoping since you were headed to the Rising Star if I might come along. It seems I have missed the civilian shuttle and, well I have a date as well with Chameleon. He's already there on business, so if you would be a dear, you would be helping make an old woman very happy!"

McKayla resisted the urge to roll her eyes, mostly because Cael was doing it for her behind the Siress's back. "Looks like it's a double date," he said chuckling under his breath as he exited the shuttle.

With a resigned sigh, McKayla answered, "Of course Siress, it would be my pleasure."

McKayla powered up the shuttle as the Siress took the seat beside her in the shuttle meant for hauling small cargos from the ship to the planet, providing another personal touch that was unique to Colonial Movers. There were only two seats, and McKayla showed the sires how to secure her restraining belt before she opened the comlink to the Viper. "Shuttle one, preparing to launch."

The Warriors enthusiastic greeting almost made her shut down the engines to the shuttle. She just didn't know if she could take his upbeat optimism on a day like today.

"Great! I was getting lonely out here! So what's your pleasure this evening? I heard the main course tonight is bovine ribs." Lieutenant Starbuck spent most of the flight detailing the many choices of entertainment that were available for the evening. McKayla only have listened as the Siress kept up her own running conversation as well, with comments about what a kind and thoughtful young man Lt. Starbuck seemed to be.

"Oh but he is quite popular with the ladies. You must have really caught his fancy. Oh dear, you need some lipstick!" Before McKayla could protest, the Siress was grabbing her chin and turning her face away from the shuttle's controls and applying some color to her lips, and then rubbing some into her cheeks. "Oh yes, there you are. Such a beautiful young lady."

McKayla turned back to the controls, her face hot with embarrassment. This was going to be a long evening and she wasn't sure if a meal that wasn't potar roots was worth it.

The Lieutenant landed first, his clearance already approved ahead of the time. McKayla had to wait. Being a Captain of a cargo container had no sway for docking, and apparently neither did having the Siress aboard. It was almost thirty centons before she was granted clearance, and by then she was quite tired of the Siress's ongoing advertising of Lt. Starbuck's virtues and qualities. Who would have thought that the woman's melodic voice could actually become irritating after more than fifteen centons, but then again it was her father's voice she heard when the Siress paused to take a breath, the only phrase her father ever uttered that hinted at how well read he really was, "I think she doth protest too much."

McKayla didn't know what to say to the woman either. She wasn't stupid enough to think this was really a date or that the Lieutenant had intentions for her other than the meal tonight and what he might be able to get away with later. Mick wasn't sure what she would let the man get away with and supposed it would depend on what he would let her get away with. There was that tan line, whether it existed or not, that had piqued her curiosity, and by the vestal virgins, she was tired of being one. Who knew that destructions could be so ruinous on your love life? The rest of the fleet seemed to be pairing up two by two like the fabled Noah's ship before the asteroid shower, but for MacKayla, unless you counted Yuri telling her he liked her nose, and Rick's same old tired dirty jokes, had been left behind at the spaceport with the unicorns and griffins.

Docking was a relief. Even though the Siress had changed topics to discussing improvements that could be made to the containers on the ship, McKayla was tired of the woman's fake civility. Mick could use that drink the good looking warrior had promised.

The Lieutenant was waiting on them, and he was an even more gorgeous than she remembered. He had changed into his dress uniform for the dining lounge. McKayla's steps faltered at the sight and she'd lost her breath for just a moment. Was it the gleaming metals, the gold trimmed cape or that tan? All she knew was the man's smile was brighter than that nova at Carillon and Mick wanted to drink in the sight like a glass of ambrosa. But Mick flinched as if that drink had been thrown in her face when Siress Blassie purred, "Mmm, there is nothing like a man in uniform."

McKayla felt her own smile go taut into a grimace. If this truly was a double date, then Mick would be eating and calling it an early night.

The Warrior seemed to have noticed the change in her as his own smile went from glorious to a slight frown of concern. He stepped across the landing bay, bowing slightly to the women, "Siress Blassie, I believe Chameleon is getting you two a table if you would like me escort you to the dining lounge."

McKayla almost lost her appetite as she witnessed the Siress smiling coyly at the Lieutenant, reaching out a hand to touch his chest. He didn't back away. "Oh my, aren't you the perfect gentleman."

Mick crinkled her nose in disgust. The Lieutenant was observant as he leaned down to the Siress and said, "I would offer to dine with you, but Chameleon is a jealous man from what I have heard. The Captain and I will leave you two to your evening while we scrounge ourselves a table in the corner." He turned to McKayla, "A quiet corner where I can get to know you a bit better. You look good in black. Brings out your eyes." He winked at her and McKayla froze. She honestly didn't know what to say to the words. It didn't matter because she didn't get a chance as Siress Blassie answered for her.

"Oh I know, doesn't it just look stunning on her. Who knew a uniform could be made to show off the charms of a woman, but that one surely does. Shall we Lieutenant?"

Starbuck offered an arm to each of them, but McKayla waved him off. "I'll just follow," she mumbled. The warrior cocked his head at her, but she just shook her head at him. He reached for her hand and she was suddenly conscious of just how much grease was under her nails and embedded in the creases of her fingers. She wanted to pull her hand back, but the Lieutenant kept a firm hold. She let him lead her off like a child, her hand limp and dead in his, not really knowing what she should do. She would have been even more concerned at the gesture, except that Siress Blassie's constant chatter left no room for any emotions.

They headed to one of the nicer dining lounges and the Siress took her leave at the podium for the host, with a little wave and a kiss she blew to Starbuck, who teasingly pretended to catch it. Mick rolled her eyes, and then suddenly found herself bursting out in laughter when Starbuck whispered to her, "At least she didn't pinch my cheeks this time, or worse, plant a big sloppy lipstick kiss on me." The Lieutenant grinned at her laughter and it was McKayla's first inkling that the evening might not be a complete disaster. "She's a bit much to take sometimes, but she means well, but you know that, she's lived on your ship for a while now."

"I would say she's harmless, but my second runs from her like she's the plague." She replied to him, wondering how Cael would like having the Siress blow him a kiss. He'd probably fall to the ground as if she'd tossed a bomb at him to avoid it.

"She just likes to flirt and feel like she's young again. But then don't we all?" He didn't wait for her reply as he spoke to the host for the lounge, sliding him a cubit. They were led off to a small table in the corner just like Starbuck promised, but unlike the other tables, it was near the kitchen and well lit. It almost looked like the break table for the staff of the lounge. There was no fancy table cloth or candle light, just silverware and a couple of battered chairs. For some reason, seeing the worn table and overused chairs made McKayla feel a bit more comfortable about how this evening might go. She didn't have much experience in fancy cruise liner luxury lounges. Her and her father usually ate at mom and pop diners, or spaceport food cart hovers. In fact, Mick couldn't remember if she ever ate somewhere that the cutlery and napkins weren't disposable. Does food actually taste better off a metal utensil? Well she'd be finding out tonight she guessed.

"Best I could do on short notice," Starbuck said, tossing his cape over his shoulders pulling out the chair for her before taking his own seat. "I did make sure they saved us some bovine rips with extra sauce."

"Ahh, you do know the way to my heart," She teased and finally got what she thought might be a real smile from the man.

Mick looked over the menu, and more importantly the prices realizing she couldn't afford much. She hadn't been paid in real cubits since the destruction. The crew was able to trade some of the goods they were paid for rent, but those potar roots didn't bring in cubits, just other goods. When the waiter came by to take their order, the warrior had her go first like a gentleman, and she ordered water and the cheapest meal on the menu.

The Lieutenant eyed her over his menu, "The meal is on me, order what you want."

"I'm good." She answered, remembering the first lesson she'd ever been taught, nothing in this life was ever free.

Starbuck shut his menu and leaned across the table to her. "Okay, truth be told, the meal is on the Commander to apologize for the communication errors. We don't know how it happened, but it's been corrected. You got all the messages, right?"

McKayla nodded, remembering back to the hundreds of messages that were dumped in her commfeed in one big burst that day. Buried deep amongst the messages were the ones that mattered the most, the orders that she relinquish command of her father's vessel, the ship he had bought and paid for and named after his late wife, over to the captain of the Agro ship. None of the messages asked for her approval, or even offered a way to register a comment or complaint. Decisions had been made and forwarded without even being concerned that the Captain of the ship in question had not replied. The Colonial Mover's messages hadn't been lost or misdirected, they'd been buried like a sack of unwanted daggits tossed in a dumpster.

She felt the anger flush her cheeks as she met the Lieutenant's eyes. She tried to read in his face what his angle might be here, but his blue eyes danced, his smile didn't seem sinister, and that tan glowed nicer than any candlelight. He was working hard at hiding his intentions, but surely a decorated Viper pilot, the Warrior of the Centaur didn't want her old rusty cargo ship. She had no idea what he wanted, but she knew she wanted a good meal that didn't involve roots and survival rations. She could hear her father's warning, "Everything comes at a cost. Be sure you don't sell yourself cheap." Well since it seemed they thought they had already bought her ship, she'd make sure they paid well before she set them straight that she wasn't selling. The good looking man across from her was going to have to do more than smile and pass out compliments.

"Oh, in that case," McKayla opened the menu again, "I'll have an ambrosia, the appetizer sampler, a full rack of the bovine rips, the cake for dessert, and four of the same boxed to go." She shut her menu and looked to the warrior waiting for him to object.

Instead he smiled at her, uttered, "Good choice. The same for me, and keep the ambrosia flowing."

As the waiter headed off with their order, Lieutenant Starbuck leaned back and studied her like she was a tech manual. She tried to appear casual as she leaned back in her own chair and took in the plush atmosphere of the lounge. She found herself unnerved at the silence and the man's scrutiny, so she broke the tension, "So, come here often?"

The Lieutenant chuckled. "In fact, I do. Not much else to spend my cubits on, so I treat myself and my dates as much as I can when my duty schedule allows. Do you?"

"Once," she replied, not bothering to elaborate that her and her crew had only been to the chancery and one of the clubs before running out of cubits and buying some cheap homemade hooch and heading back to the ship to drink. "I've been a bit busy since my father passed."

"Yeah, that had to be hard. Heart failure, right? Not the destruction that brought it on though, right?"

He'd done his homework, she noted. It wasn't hard information to find out. Most of the Captains of the civilian fleet had known and shown up for her father's memorial.

"Yeah, he was ill before the destruction. This was supposed to be his last run and then he was going to work less and let others run the ship but, well, the Cylons had other plans."

"Yes they did. Messed up a few hopes and dreams I think."

"You could say that again. But not really yours right? I mean, you're a viper pilot. Isn't your whole existence about shooting Cylons from the skies?" She suddenly couldn't look into his eyes. The whole fleet knew that the ones who really put their astrum's on the line to get as many ships away from the Colonies and safe from the Cylons were the pilots. McKayla had personally witnessed through the viewscreen of her ship more than a dozen fiery pilot's deaths.

The Lieutenant's voice lost some of the flirtatious lilt as he answered, "Sort of. There are a bit more to shoot at than before, but that's not exactly what I had been hoping and dreaming for."

He was quiet for a moment and Mick felt like an idiot for ruining the mood. The Lieutenant wasn't a bad guy, and it wasn't his fault that the Commander was trying to take away her ship. She was about to apologize when the warrior seemed to shake off the somber mood and turned up the shine of his smile. "So, when did you learn how to fly?"

"As soon as I could walk. Shuttles aren't that hard to fly. Most of it is autopilot, even for take off and landings. Docking can be difficult if you don't know what you're doing, but even then, the ship you're docking with does half the work."

"Still, you can fly. You do know we need pilots, right? We've combed the fleet for anyone who could fly. How did I miss you?" He tossed his last words out like Siress Blassie's blown kiss. Mick almost physically ducked, before she caught herself.

"Just dumb bad luck, I guess," she channeled a little of the Siress, as she tried to smile at him coyly. It didn't feel right, but the man didn't look at her funny.

"Well lucky I was along for that inspection then wasn't it?"

His face beamed and she let it warm her. "I could get a tan just from the radiance of that grin," she thought to herself. She'd cut through his felgercarb after she'd had dessert, until then, well it wasn't every cycle that the warrior of the centaur tried to flirt with her.

Their ambrosia was delivered and the Lieutenant poured her a glass then one for himself, then raised his glass in a toast, "To moving ahead for a new future for the Captain of the Colonial Movers." She raised her own glass and try as she might she couldn't stop the words, feeling as if she'd been possessed by the spirit of her sarcastic dad, "How far down does that tan go?"

The Lieutenant didn't even hesitate as he replied, "As low as you want it to go."


	5. Chapter 5

A dining room filled with boxes lit by a single candle in a bottle placed on a moving box. A man and a woman eating take out while laughing and smiling at each other across the makeshift box being used for a table.

Cue romantic music – a sultry male voice speaks low – Fall in love with the moving process with Colonial Movers. Our commitment to you will leaving you sighing. Just say yes to Colonial Movers.

She hadn't meant to blurt out the crack about his tan line, and she was still flushed with embarrassment when their appetizers arrived, along with a second bottle of ambroisa. The Lieutenant dialed down his flirting and kept up a steady stream of conversation, asking her questions about her life before and after the destruction. It was not what she expected for a pilot whom half the fleet viewed as some sort of self absorbed rogue raised in the wilds of Umbra. Like everyone else in the fleet, she had heard about Lieutenant Starbuck, plus she kept up with the Triad games, mostly because Cael and Rick were avid fans and it gave them something to talk about except potar roots and the endless list of equipment needing repairs. About a dozen times she had seen the Lieutenant on her vidscreen, but he was a lot different in person. For one, he'd been assigned a lowly job of inspecting cargo ships. For another, he was pretty funny, something that was not mentioned on that warrior of the centaur show.

The pilot was doing an admirable job of pretending to listen to her answers to his questions. They had talked about the places they had known on Caprica, a few music clubs and bars, but that was a line of conversation that only lead to sad dead ends. He had made the mistake of asking her how they had converted all the containers to carrying survivors and not just their stuff. She caught herself wandering into the technical jargon of air purifiers, gravity generators and CO2 scrubbers. His blonde head nodded along as if he actually understood and was interested. His eyes stayed on her even though she was probably boring him to death. Yet she kept going hoping that if she stuck to talk of machinery, she'd keep herself from getting caught up in his eyes. It had been a while since she had seen that color of blue. She tried to ask him a few questions, which he answered as succinctly as he could, professing that everyone knew everything about him, but he wanted to know more about her.

The ambrosia flowed and soon they were on their third when the main course arrived. She didn't mind that the warrior seemed intent on getting her drunk. She wasn't paying for it and her mind had already decided how far this would go when it slipped out about his tan line. She'd follow that line down and worry about regrets in the morning.

She knew this guy's reputation and had no illusions that he was really interested in her as say a girlfriend or…or whatever. This would be a one night stand, but she hadn't had one of those yet and, well, what a night it could be. All the guys who'd ever worked for her father had a story of that one, the one that could have been and somehow wasn't, "but man what a night." They would always get a wistful look on their faces as if that was their version of heaven. Well lately her life had been hades. Her nights had been cold in a ship that could just barely keep atmosphere going, the gravity a little on the light side to help with moving furniture, and a bunk that was narrow and built for one. There weren't many eligible men in a fleet that had actually honored the code of travelers in distress, women and children first. She didn't feel like waiting for some of those orphans to come of age. She would take whatever this hotshot was offering and count herself lucky if he remembered in the morning. She'd at least have a story to tell. By the time she finished the third ambrosia, she wasn't interested in the meal anymore.

Starbuck, as the man insisted on being called instead of Lieutenant, had tried to be coy in his intentions. He flirted up a storm, but the flow of the conversation kept coming back to the same topic. He was interested in what she could do. Not in bed as she had somewhat hoped, but more for what she could do in a cockpit. His most pointed questions were about how long she had been flying. He asked several questions about what she could fly, who taught her, and how much she knew. He was obviously looking to recruit a pilot and it was almost as tempting as the dessert she was offered.

She didn't admit it to the Warrior, but she had applied to the academy. Had things gone as planned, she would be there right about now. However, not much in her life had gone as she had hoped. Her father's favorite joke was one that began, "How do you make the Lord's laugh?" He would wait for everyone to profess their ignorance before he'd wink and say as if it was a guarded secret, "You tell them your plans." Once again, her father was right. She had made plans but they had been demolished just like their worlds. First had come the success of the company, which should have been a good thing, but instead it meant that her father was handling more and more high profile moves during times he should be taking a vacation or preparing for his retirement. Loads of work meant McKayla ended up helping with most of the paperwork. Then there was the sudden debilitating fatigue that plagued her father. He finally complained of chest pains and collapsed in a container while checking on a cargo. What followed was the doctor's visit with the devastating news. Her father tried to lie to her about what his diagnosis meant, but she was not dumb.

The acceptance letter to the academy arrived the day after his diagnosis of heart failure and the decree that he wouldn't be around for long. She had opened the letter, but finding out she was accepted just didn't seem that important anymore and she immediately dumped it in the trash. She put her life on hold knowing that she could pick up those plans after she buried her father. Not long after, every one's plans had been destroyed along with their homes.

The only thing that had gone right in the last two yahrens had been the fact that she and her father were in the middle of a move when the cylons attacked. At first it had seemed to be the worst kind of luck, unarmed, in between worlds as the fleet went up in flames. But in hindsight, being in transit meant they were able to be one of the first ships to respond to the Galactica's call for survivors to join her. They had been able to accommodate the overflow of people from the other ships that were dangerously full of what was left of humanity.

"So, you learned in a shuttle and then just graduated up to cargo carriers?" Starbuck's voice snapped her back from the memories of those first few days after the destruction. "Sounds like you can handle just about anything, maybe even me?" He winked at her.

She reiterated for him again that flying a cargo carrier was quite easy actually. Most of it was autopilot and following the commands transmitted to the navigation controls. You pushed buttons and the ship responded. The Rayanna was not a sleek viper, nor swift. She was slow and ponderous, built mainly for her ability to carry a load and nothing more, not even for comfort. There was nothing interesting about piloting a cargo carrier.

"Yup," she answered licking the rib sauce from her fingers. "It is the crew that does most of the flying. I just give the orders."

The pilot grinned at her licking the sauce from his own fingers, "Mmm, a woman who can give orders. I like that. Might be orders I would actually follow."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him as he laughed. "You could order me around any day." He seductively licked sauce from a finger.

"The only order I'll be giving you is to knock that off and get me another ambrosia."

"Aye aye Captain."

He waved down a server, and Mickey found herself sipping at her fourth ambrosia. At this rate, she wasn't sure she'd be able to walk away from this table. That's okay, she reasoned, she wasn't sure if she wanted to. It wasn't the best meal she'd ever had, but it was the best since beginning this endless move. Much like the lieutenant who turned his napkin into a bib and dug in, she left vanity aside as she did the same. It amused the pilot who grinned at her over a greasy rib. She stuffed herself, knowing she'd regret the indulgence as much as the ambrosia come the next morning, but she had a lifetime to deal with the regrets. Of course, with the cylons close on their heels, a lifetime could be a fairly short, so to hades with regrets. She ordered a fifth glass to go along with dessert. She could tell the cake wasn't real chocolate, but much like this man's intentions in her, it was real enough for now.

She couldn't finish off the cake, sliding it over to the pilot who had no problem scarfing it down, letting her know that while the pilots ate, it might not be as well as she first thought. She tried to keep that in mind as she watched the Lieutenant licking the last of the chocolate sauce off the plate with his finger, completely overdoing his attempt at being flirtatious. Not all was as it seemed. This wasn't just a date, and he wasn't really here to seduce her out of her uniform. No, it was more like he was trying to seduce her away from her ship. Okay, maybe not him, but someone was, and she'd be damned if that was what would happen to her father's baby.

She didn't want the meal to end. It had been fun to laugh and talk as if they had nothing better to do than drink and eat, but she was past the point of tipsy. The drinks had loosened something insider her and she couldn't rein in her mouth.

"Alright Lieutenant, I let you take me to dinner, and even dessert, but now I think it might be time you offered me something other than sucrose dusted zeroes."

He cocked his head at her as he poured the last of the ambrosia into her glass before his eyes looked away, "Sucrose dusted zeroes? Is that a dessert I don't know about?"

"No, it's what my dad would call all those compliments you've been giving me, sweet nothings. Because that's what they are, nothing. Who set you up for this little date and why exactly do they want my ship?"

She regretted the question as she watched the mirth leave the Lieutenant's smile. Why couldn't she have just left it alone until the morning when she went before the Council of twelve? Didn't she deserve a night of some fun and drinks? So maybe it was felgercarb he was feeding her, but it was pretty tasty garbage. She had enough ambrosia in her where she could pretend the date was real and taken that luxurious suite with maybe some company to share it with as well. But no, she had to be just as straight forward as her father.

The golden hero wasn't as quick with his reply as he had been most of the meal with his jokes and compliments. He nodded at her as if making a decision before he answered. "The date was my idea, on that I swear. As for your ship, well, I'm just as curious as you are. If she were a luxury liner, I could understand, but no offense, it's just a cargo container tug and an old one at that. I'd like to think it was just an oversight, a casualty of bureaucracy, but…"

He didn't finish the sentence as he dug in a pocket inside his cape pulling out a fumarello. "You mind?" He asked as a gentleman should. She shook her head no and he lit it up, talking in between the puffs of smoke as he coaxed it to life. "Yours seems to be the only ship that," he paused inhaling, "is being turned over to someone else. I'm thinking that was due to the death of your father. But," he inhaled again, then went on. "Yours is not the only ship that is being moved around. Seems up until recently the Galactica made those decisions, but now that the immediate crisis is over, the civilian councils have stepped in."

Politics, that's what it was she realized. Politics was the one thing her father had said was the water in the oil that gummed up the works. It could be that simple, but something told her from all the support she was receiving from the other Captains, there was more to it than just someone on a power trip.

She closed her eyes and sighed, wishing she could get back to the flirting and fun they were having, but she had to find out the truth at least about the awkward issue that seemed like a piece of furniture that no matter how it was turned, just wouldn't fit through the opening. "Yeah, okay, but why you? What profit do you stand to make from all this?"

His eyes went a bit wider at the question before his sultry smile returned to his face. "Some things aren't measure in cubits. Let's just say I like to help damsels in distress."

"And which damsel would that be? Me or Siress Blasie?" She challenged him, tossing him her own evil grin as she called him out.

"No need to be jealous, I think I can help you both. I think you and Siress Blasie want the same thing."

"Oh, and pray tell, what would that be?" She leaned forward as she smiled mischievously at him, "You or my ship because one of you is far more desirable and reliable."

Her heart skipped a beat as his eyes flashed with the challenge. "Now that one hurt. Have I ever let you down? I'm not nearly as temperamental as the systems on your ship."

"I haven't known you long enough to make that evaluation." She leaned back and finished the last of the ambrosia in her glass, knowing that the evening was probably over but hoping like hades that it wasn't.

He seemed to measure her up before he leaned forward, putting down the fumarello and spreading out his hands like he was revealing a hand of cards. "Give me the time then. I don't think you'll be disappointed. I'm not here to take your ship from you, unless that's what you want. But if you don't mind me saying, I think your talents are wasted there."

"Oh really? And how would you know what my talents are? I just met you today."

He didn't back down. "I'm a good judge of character and the best pilot we have in the fleet."

She was about to comment on his ego, but he held up a finger to forestall her before he went on.

"As you just said, cargo ships fly themselves so there's no challenge to be had there and you need a challenge. You seem to spend your day's elbows deep in old machinery, and I'm thinking maybe it's time you got your hands on something new. I can offer you something new."

It was an interesting proposition, but just what was he offering? She decided flirting back until he got to the point might be the best way to handle him. "I don't know, I think your parts are a bit older than you think." She couldn't stop herself from laughing aloud as Starbuck pantomimed being shot in the heart.

"Ouch! Now what have I done to offend you? Was the food not good enough? The ambrosia wasn't the greatest, but at least there has been plenty of it. I wasn't talking about me, although you might like a few of my old parts. I've worn them in enough so that they know what to do and they do it right. But all seriousness, maybe we should discuss this over a game of cards, or maybe listening to some music in the lounge."

She shook her head. "No thank you Lieutenant. I think I should just turn in. I have a big day ahead of me, what with the being stripped of command and sacrificing my father's ship to the cylons for target practice."

"It's Starbuck, and I think you should come with me. I think you want to hear my plan. You can get a good night's sleep any other night, back on your ship under your command. The night is young, and so are we."

He didn't wait for her answer. He plunked down a bag of cubits on the table stood up and reached for her hand. He grasped it firmly and led her out of the dining area. She was too stunned by his forcefulness, and a bit too drunk to offer up any resistance. She let him lead because he had been right about one thing, she wanted something new and he was a challenge.

She could hear her father's voice in her ear, "Don't pack up your own heart and ship it away Mickey."

"Too late dad," she thought as the handsome man held her hand, "It's been in storage too long."


	6. Chapter 6

The scene, a dirty cargo container, doors open at the back and two men in dirty unmarked coveralls tossing boxes onto a tall stack that teeters precariously.

"I bet we can fit one more on Cletus!"

"I'll take that bet," Cletus says as he takes a box marked fragile and tosses it up to the top of the stack, where it lands, but then begins to wobble and the whole stack comes crashing down.

Cut to a scene of a clean cargo container, boxes neatly stacked only three high, men and women in clean well fitting uniforms carefully stacking boxes with care. Announcer's voice, "Don't gamble with your move. Choosing Colonial Movers is a safe bet." A man and woman in the clean uniforms high five, and then begin to add more padding around the boxes to keep them safe before gently closing the door to the container.

She should have said no. She should have insisted that the Lieutenant say good night and drop her off at the front desk where she could have gotten her room key, tucked herself in for the night and gone to sleep, alone. That's what her father would have wanted. She could hear his voice in her ears asking, "What are you doing Mickey? You know this will lead to trouble."

Yeah, well, trouble can be a lot fun and she hadn't had this much fun in a long time. So far the Lieutenant Starbuck had not disappointed her. The meal had not contained potar roots and the drinks had been plenty. He kept a firm hold of her hand and actually looked back at least twice to make sure she was on board with this. His smile had been confident, promising her she wouldn't regret following. She had tried not to smile back, to maintain her serious captain face, but it was hard to do with that twinkle in the handsome man's blue eyes. He was up to something, and she was more than willing to go along if he kept smiling.

She wasn't surprised that he led her to the chancery, neither of them was sober enough for some dancing. She just hoped he wouldn't be expecting her to gamble too. Other than IOUs for potar roots, she didn't have anything of value she could use as a wager. He kept hold of her hand and she was surprised that he didn't even glance at the tables to see how the games were going. The warrior was intent on reaching the back of the chancery hall, finally stopping before an opening to one of the private rooms in the back.

"Just follow my lead. If they let you sit at the table, best you just pretend you are my date and try to avoid an introduction. If they demand one, you work on a cargo ship. If they press, then you just work on your ship. Try to be as vague as possible." He pulled out a bag that had some gambling markers handing them to her.

"But I'm Captain, and if they don't know that, I am wearing a uniform with the Colonial Movers logo," she cut a wary glare at him. "And I thought I was your date?"

"You are my date," he said smiling to her, but his smile dropped as he added, "Tonight, you're just my date, not a Captain. I have often found the best way to learn anything is to be the guy who knows nothing. You want to know what's going on, don't you? Why your ship and several others are being moved around and taken over? Did you think you were the only one?"

She cocked her head at that in surprise. "Yeah, I did. Does help explain the sudden support I'm getting. It wasn't my idea to leave the fleet." For some reason it was suddenly important that he knew that.

"I thought you had engines troubles? My feelings might be hurt if I thought you were trying to get away from me." He pursed his lips in a fake pout.

She shook her head chuckling. "Well my feelings are a bit hurt now that I know I might not be the only one. I thought I was your only date, at least tonight." She liked the surprised look in Starbuck's eyes at the joke.

"Oh tonight you have my full attention, just like you have the Commander's with all those ships falling back and threatening to leave us. Breaks our heart. So let's see what we can do about keeping us together." He winked at her before he leaned in to do something she did not expect. She thought he was just going to whisper some secret in her ear, clue her in to what was really going on, so she leaned in as he did. When his lips met hers she almost jolted back in shock, but his hand had come around to the back of her head, actually catching her as she pulled away. He gently held on as his lips brushed down to her ear for the whispered secret she had been expecting.

"It's a card game with several other Captains. Stay close, play along. I assume you know how to play pyramid?"

She found herself breathless as she answered, "Yes," wondering if the kiss had really happened. Had he meant to do that? Was it just a ploy to get her closer for this secret or was it an accident because she had leaned in as well? She wanted to curse those drinks now as they had her befuddled, but they also had her feeling warm and tingly.

"That's my girl," he whispered. She shivered as his lips brushed her ear and he pulled back smiling at her. She didn't know what to think or say, so she just stood there smiling at him like a schoolgirl on her first date. She wanted to slap the silly smile off her face, but she liked the coy smile the handsome warrior gave her in return as he leaned in and cleared up the confusion. His lips met hers again.

At the pleasant surprise, she found herself beginning to laugh. It was awkward she knew to be laughing in the middle of a kiss, and for half a micron the laugh turned into a nervous giggle, but it faded as she looked in the Lieutenant's eyes as he pulled away. There was a glint of amusement.

"Now that's a new one. I didn't know my kissing was laughably bad." He didn't wait for her reply as he pulled her hand, the one she just now realized he had never let go since the dining lounge. "Here we go. Watch and learn and later I might see if I can get you to laugh again."

As they entered the cardroom she didn't know what to say or to do. She was swirl of emotions from elated, to angry. It had dismayed her to find out she wasn't alone in the mistreatment of the fleet's civilian captains. It didn't give her hope that this could be worked out at just a misunderstanding. On top of it all was the pleasant idea that maybe this handsome man actually liked her. The last thought had her suddenly embarrassed and shy. She was no beauty, so average in her looks she was often confused for someone's long lost neighbor or some friend's sister. She'd had boyfriends and lovers, but like her, they'd been average. Lt. Starbuck was far from average. His triad wins alone took him to another level that should be unreachable for her. But add to that his Warrior of the Centaur celebrity status, mixed with those good looks, flowing blond hair and a dash of blue in those eyes, he was lightyears away from average.

She tried to focus on the introductions Starbuck was making, but the warm glow of the kiss and the ambrosia made it hard to focus on anything but the warrior. At the table were six men, with Starbuck being the seventh. He pulled up a chair for Mick to watch the game. She realized the markers she had been given were probably just to hold onto for Starbuck. This was a boy's club. She wasn't surprised as she knew that there were very few female Captains in the twelve worlds before the destruction. She had been so preoccupied on her own ship and her own concerns, she had no idea if there were any female captains of the civilian ships. As she looked around the table, she realized she might be the only one, and that was by the default of her father's death.

"Sorry I'm late fellas. You mind making some room?" Starbuck guided her towards the table. Most of the men around the game eyed McKayla before giving Starbuck knowing nods and smirks.

"We started without you," the one dealing the cards said and Mickey tried not to look shocked as the Lieutenant asked those next to him to slide down the table to create a space for her to join the game. She tried not to let it show that she felt out of place as she took the seat beside the Lieutenant.

"Cards, focus on the cards," she mumbled the order to herself in her head. Her father had prepared her for this as soon as she could sit at a table and hold a hand. "Games are rarely about the game itself, but about the people you play with." That had been the lesson he taught her along with the rules of the actual game. "Watch the people and how they play, that's how you win." Her dad had been a good card player. He was good enough he would have known if Starbuck was bluffing or not.

They were finishing off a hand as Starbuck introduced the players. "The dealer is Faisel, he's captain of the Evniki, and there's Rainer, he's second on the Simmah. Beside you is Captain Samuel from the Adrias. The one who's winning is Talbot from the Kerkini. He's basically Captain as the old one is awaiting trial for black market profiteering."

Mickey's eyes went up at that, but Starbuck's hand slipped under the table squeezing her thigh as a warning she took to mean she should hide her reactions. "I think you know Captain Baden from the Urgula as that's another cargo carrier from a moving company."

She didn't recognize Baden, but then she had found most of her father's friends had looked the same. Stereotypes were formed for a reason as she learned early on that most captains tended to be balding, a little on the heavy side, favored coverall uniforms and bushy eyebrows that seemed to hide their eyes. She could have met the man, but he was such an epitome of the stereotype, she may have not found anything unique to make her remember him.

"And Eryk is captaining the Starakis, that is until they figure out he's cheats on his resource requests like he cheats at cards." Mick eyed the youngest of the group, still her senior by over ten yahrens, but he at least hadn't grown the gray hair yet that came from being Captain of your own shipload of troubles. His light brown hair almost rivaled Starbuck's

"Hey, I have to earn my cubits somehow to keep my crew paid. Nice of you to finally show up. I was tired of losing to Talbot. He gloats almost as bad as you do Starbuck." Eryk said, sliding a mug of grog over to the warrior. "Talbot, next round is on you. Signal the server we need two more mugs."

The tall dark haired man named Talbot grumbled as he took some cubits from his pile and set them aside while reaching behind him for the com to let a server know they were in need of drinks.

Mickey wasn't sure who she should be watching as the next hand began, the other Captains or Starbuck who seemed to have an even bigger stake in her problems than she thought. She had missed out on far more than a few emails and memos. She had no idea that the other Captains knew each other and socialized together. It made sense of course, her father had seemed to prefer the company of other Captains and had often turned down invitations from the crew or the office staff for the moving company. "Best not to fraternize with the help. It breeds favoritism and contempt when you have to make them get to work. Everybody wants to think you are their buddy and therefore they can pull one over on you and shirk their responsibilities. Stick to your own kind," her father used to say.

Starbuck didn't introduce her, and that tipped off his hand. He'd set this up. They all knew who she was so there was no need for an introduction. So why did he need her to meet these men, or more importantly, why did they need to meet her?

"Didn't think you would all make it, I mean with the rash of engine problems that seems to have cropped up." Starbuck patted her thigh before bringing his hand back to the table to collect the cards that were dealt. It was a good bet she'd be following Starbuck's lead on this especially since she didn't know exactly what "this" was.

"The engine problems are what brought us. They've called an emergency meeting for the civilian Captains, and when you miss the meetings, they volunteer you for the next detail, or they suddenly find extra room on your ship for some of the overflow of people, but never the kind of people you want," Rainer started, not even attempting to keep up the façade that this was a friendly random get together. Another thing you could count on from captains. They didn't deal in felgercarb. No time to chit chat, down to business.

"We need to find a better way of dealing with civilian problems than just transferring the problems somewhere else. Needs to be a better solution than just locking everyone up on the prison barge. I mean, I have a rampant problem with unlicensed sociolators, and if I report it, those young gals are just going to end up in chains, when all they are trying to do is keep their kids clothed and fed. I put most of them to work with something legitimate, but a few, they just don't want to work. They came to me from the Katsonis, and before that the Axios. We can't just shuffle the problems around."

"Oh I don't know," Starbuck said pulling out a fumarello and preparing to light it. "That's how I wound up on the Galactica, someone else's problem that got transferred."

Faisel laughed as he replied, "Yes, but I suspect you don't cause the other passengers to piss puss, clogging up the already fracked sewage system, assuming you have one, a sewage system I mean."

Starbuck laughed at the joke, "Oh I have one, a large one, with no pus, a sewage system I mean." He winked at Mickey.

Faisel shook his head at having his joke turned into a flirtatious quip. "They have crammed my holds full of families and the Galactica's answer to my query about how am I supposed to deal with my overloaded system was to give me buckets. And then they rotated me to the bottom of the list for water resupply for 'wasting resources' when I dumped the contents out the airlock. So what am I supposed to do with it? Sell it and wind up on the prison barge for trading in black market mong?"

Mickey chuckled, and Starbuck winked at her before he spoke, "Faisel, we have a lady present. We can talk about your piss pots another time."

"Yes, let's not talk about sewage systems," Samuel joined in. "When that is the least of our concerns. I want guns on my boat. Because we're newer and faster, they keep putting us in the front of the fleet and other than a visit from Starbuck to collect his winnings, I never see a viper escort, just the far away glow of their turbos. I feel like a scout on those old Tauran vids, the one that is sent out to search for the trail and winds up scalped by the primitive savages. I have asked repeatedly to be moved back. Doesn't it make sense since we're the newest and the engines in the best shape we should be near the rear of the fleet so we can tow those whose engines are on their last legs?"

All the Captains nodded in agreement as they looked over their cards. Mickey brought up her hand and it wasn't bad, but she knew this game wasn't about winning, not today. She wanted to ask questions, she suddenly had over a thousand of them, but the handsome warrior whose hand was stroking her leg while his fumarello sat smoldering had told her to keep quiet. She tried to just listen. She'd give it at least a few hands, but she couldn't leave this room without finding some answers. So far it was just finding more frustrations.

"That's what tomorrow is supposed to be about, isn't it?" Captain Eryk asked, echoing Mickey's thoughts.

"Supposedly," Baden answered. He seemed the elder of the room. "But the Galactica seems to make those decisions, not the civilian council. It is obvious the Council of Twelve is far more interested in politics and resource allocation than addressing our problems. If we mention sewage problems, I suspect they will just shift us farther away from the Rising Star. Out of sight, out of mind."

"Hey, that's not such a bad thing, staying off the scanner. Look what happened to our Captain. Everyone is dealing in black market goods, it's a necessity if you want to keep your crew happy and your ship running. But don't let Captain Dastor notice. My Captain is going to rot on the prison barge for selling washers and scrap metal. That's what they'll turn the Kerkini into, mark my words, scrap metal." Talbot tossed out a bid, "All over a handful of rubber washers with nuts and bolts that didn't go through the proper inspection process. And it was to help out the Eridanus with their water tanks. So he made a profit on it, so what? It's not like he charged what he could for them, no, he asked for the going rates at any hardware store in the colonies just so he could balance out the books and keep his inventory records. He did it legal. He could have just declared them lost and pocketed the profits, but all because the fleet didn't profit, he'll do hard time. Over washers." Talbot slammed his hand onto the table making his pile of markers jump.

"Easy there Talbot," Rainer reached out to set right a pile of his own cubits that had toppled. "He won't do hard time."

"Wanna bet?" Eryk asked, "They're making an example of him so they can keep the rest of us in line. But if we band together, demand a seat on the Council of Twelve, or better yet, form our own council and tell those damn Sires to kiss our astrums. They live on our ships after all, so why do we have to do what they say?"

"Inventory records?" Mickey blurted out the question before she remembered to keep her mouth shut

Captain Samuel answered for her, "We have all made an inventory of our parts and anything that might be useful to the fleet. We have to submit them every secton. Normally it's just routine, filed for someone to go over, backlogged like usual military paperwork."

"Yeah, just the Kerniki's luck that someone actually did their job." Talbot threw his cards down, "I fold."

"Hey don't blame me," Starbuck said, "I try my best to do as little as possible."

"No, I need you to do your job and keep the Cylons from punching more holes in my ship," Captain Samuel said tossing down a card and taking the one dealt to him.

"I'm off duty tonight," Starbuck tossed down two cards, taking the two that were dealt. "Just on a date." He winked at Mickey, but she didn't feel like playing the game anymore. "Don't worry Sam, blue squadron won't let you down."

"What we need is someone who has the time and energy to fight the Council and the Galactica, a squeaky wheel to let them know what we really need." Rainer said, tossing out another bid. "I'm too busy just keeping my ship running, not to mention my own troubles with my human cargo."

Faisel added to Rainer's comments, "They need to let us barter back and forth, and actually pay our crew. If we are going to be part of a military fleet, then we need to be inducted and on the payroll. Then maybe we could get some parts, or at least electrical wiring for Sagan's sake."

"Most Captains won't go for that unless they get to keep their ranks. But then you just have a bunch of Captains, none of them outranking the other. No there needs to be some hierarchy or it will just be anarchy. Just not sure the Galactica or the Council of Twelve should be that authority." Baden laid out his hand, winning that round and taking the pot. The server arrived with drinks and Mickey accepted the mug handed her, noting that Talbot did indeed pay for the round.

Mickey slid the mug closer to Starbuck. She was done drinking for the evening. Starbuck nudged her drink back to her, then leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Take the liquid courage. Might help you make the stand these guys need."

Take a stand? For what? Cubits instead of potar roots to pay her crew? Well for starters, she thought. Her crew had earned it, hadn't they?. No one had signed up for this journey. This wasn't a pleasure cruise or a sight seeing tour, this was survival of the fittest, or the luckiest, she realized as she tossed out her ante. She looked at the pile of cubits in the center of the table. No, this wasn't about a profit. The cubits didn't really matter. What mattered was her crew and all the people she carried in her containers. That's what had brought her here, the fact that all those people deserved more than to be target practice for the Cylons.

As the cards were dealt and hands scrutinized, she tossed out her bid, "So Sam is it? Would guns be possible on these ships? How much metal would it take to make sewage systems, and for that matter, our own crop systems? Could it be done? That could be an answer to the sewage problem. Doesn't solve the stink but I think people could put up with the smell or anything else that goes with it if they knew they were going to eat well."

"That's my girl," Starbuck said softly.

Mickey lifted her mug of grog, gestured in the Lieutenant's direction as if to toast him, "And I think we should leave the Warriors out of it."

Her jibe was met with a "here here" and laughter at Starbuck's expense.

He didn't back down, lifting his own mug, "I'm just a lowly viper pilot who would rather stick to his job of blasting cylons. I sure wouldn't want the headache of being a Captain in charge of all those people. Nope, just give me a fast ship and tank full of tylium so I can zoom away and leave my troubles behind."

Mickey cocked her head at that as Starbuck clinked his mug with hers. She was truly confused. Did he want her to make a stand or to sail away from it all?

"To fewer troubles for tomorrow." His blue eyes gleamed in challenge, "So McKayla, are you going to give me troubles in the morning, or hardships tonight?"

"I won't make it easy," she flirted back, "as I do like a challenge."


	7. Chapter 7

A receptionist answers the phone, "Colonial Movers, Demeter speaking."

Scene cuts to another office and another receptionist who says, "Hi Demeter, this is Hestia. The company is expanding with new offices on Virgon and Pisceron. I have so much inventory to move, I don't know what I'm going to do!" A phone rings, and another line on the comm lights up and then another. The young woman says, "I am so busy, and don't have time to do anything. Can I put you on hold?"

Split screen between the two offices as Demeter says, "Of course you can, but you don't need to put me on hold. I can handle everything when it is convenient for you. Just call any time, day or night, we will be here for you."

The boss Hestia's office appears in the scene, "Answer those lines Hestia, we don't want to lose customers." The receptionist shakes her head before speaking to Demeter.

"I don't have time for chit chat or negotiations. I just need it done."

Demeter smiles, "Let me save you some time. Here at Colonial Movers we have the lowest rates in the Colonies and the highest customer satisfaction. We don't waste your time, letting you get right down to business. We can handle everything from large inventories to small offices. Get back to the important things while we get to work."

Hestia smiles, "Who knew I could handle it all with one call? Thank you, Demeter." Hestia hangs up and takes another call as Demeter hangs up as well before speaking.

"Get right down to work with Colonial Movers. Helping your business run smoothly is our business."

McKayla appreciated that while they played cards, the pretense that it was a serious game was quickly discarded. The men played their hands, but the bets were kept small and the focus was on the conversation, not the cards. The handsome Lieutenant showed he was more than a stupid viper jock when he asked pointed questions, the same ones that were swirling around in Mickey's head, finding out more information about each of the Captain's individual ship's problems. The Lieutenant actually seemed to understand their issues and made suggestions that would work.

"So, the problem isn't that the gals transferred to your ship are conducting their, um, business, but it's that they might have some health problems?" Starbuck asked Captain Rainer.

"That and the influx of less than desirable visitors to the ship to contract those diseases. No one wants to become the party barge, if you know what I mean." Rainer said.

"Probably more accurate to say 'Everyone wants to party, but no one wants to clean it up.' I have the same problem sometimes with my squadron," Starbuck joked. "Why don't you request a medical team, and at least get the health crisis under control before it spreads?" Starbuck asked looking to Mickey, "I know the Galactica keeps me disease free despite the rumors of my wicked ways. I am judged unfairly by other pilot's bad behavior, but the Life Center sees that we at least don't spread diseases as fast as the rumors."

Mickey shook her head at him. It wasn't catching a disease from the gorgeous pilot she was worried about, or even his wild reputation. No, the problem would be on her end. She was afraid she'd catch something closer to an emotion that she would have to linger with while he moved on.

"Unregistered Sociolators. Did you miss that bit of information? It seems when we rescued women and children, the old and young first, we rescued some more conservative attitudes. The council doesn't even want Sociolators in the fleet, let alone unregistered ones. If those gals go for treatment, there will be too many questions and fines they can't pay and then what? Time spent in detention cells or reassigned to work assignments as punishment." Rainer said raking in the pot for that hand and dealing the cards.

"You could get them some unofficial treatment, can't you? Don't we have physicians for the civilian population?" Starbuck asked tossing out a cubit.

"Tried that on my ship," Captain Eryk said, "but that involves getting medicine off the black market and with the arrest of the Captain of the Kerniki just for dealings over washers and seals, no one is willing to buy, sell or trade right now."

"They're making an example of him," Talbot lamented again. "It's just a matter of time before they run out of room on the prison barge. Without legitimate markets set up and cubits to pay our crews, we're all dealing in black market goods."

"Some Captains have taken the law into their own hands. There have been floggings on the Hitei Kan," Faisel added.

Samuel shook his head as he tossed down his hand folding. "Once you begin flogging, you know you've lost control, and there is no getting it back."

"But the civilians aren't our crew. We're not responsible for their actions," Mickey said realizing a moment too late that she should have kept her mouth shut as all the Captains looked to her shaking their heads. Faisel and Baden actually looked jealous for just a moment before looking away.

"You've been lucky," Samuel explained. "Your civilians have been somewhat civilized and motivated and your crew is small, just a few mechanics and laborers, right?"

Mickey nodded knowing her crew was going to probably get even smaller if she didn't find some way to pay them.

"The Council Security Force tends to only deal with the large problems and keeping order on the Rising Star, mostly because they are corrupt and misguided. They think the only action is happening here. But we know better, don't we?" Samuel nodded knowingly to Baden.

"I've had to use some of my crew as my own security force and set up a tribunal system, but I also have another resource I can use that works far better than policing and captivity. Cubits. I can pay my crew and fine citizens that break the law." Baden clarified.

"Just as long as they don't scratch the surface of the cubits you've been handing out," Eryk added. "When you get caught minting your own currency, they will do more than transfer you to the prison barge. I think they may actually bring back capital punishment."

"I don't think they would do that," Starbuck said. To Mickey's ears, his voice had changed drastically. Gone was the mirth and mischief of the flirtatious hot shot warrior of the centaur. He frowned and it didn't look good on his features. "We need everyone. They don't even execute murders. I would know. Probably would have preferred that to the prison barge."

Mickey didn't know what he was referring to, but the other Captains seemed to, so she kept her question to herself, adding it to the list of the many she'd be asking the Lieutenant before she'd be letting him in the door of her room for the night.

Not that she might have a choice in who she let in to a room she didn't have. She fingered a cubit on the table realizing it wasn't hers. What few she had for betting had been given to her by Starbuck and If he was paying for the room, would he think she owed him something for it?

She remembered back to her days in secondary school when her father insisted before each date that she had enough cubits to cover her share of whatever they had planned. "Take a few more, that way you don't owe that boy anything. You are not an item to be bartered. You pay your own way, that way if you decide to," her father had blushed at the topic, "well, you'll know it was because you wanted to, not because you owed him. Money shouldn't be involved in that. You are more precious than mere cubits."

Mere cubits. They could change a lot of the problems she had on her ship, or would it create more? If the rest of the fleet relied on cubits for currency and Baden minted his own, then the whole economic system of the fleet might be about to collapse. If it was openly known what Baden was up to, then he wasn't the only one.

Wasn't the only one. The phrase floated into her ambrosia fogged brain as each problem she had was not unique to her or her ship. Samuel was right, despite the loss of her father, she had been lucky. There were no diseases on her ship that she knew about and the sewage system they'd hastily constructed seemed to work, although the Galactica's engineers were going to get more than they bargained for when they opened up container eight. Without atmosphere controls, it had seemed the best way to deal with the waste from her ship, to just put it in the natural cold storage of the container to dispose with it later. It wasn't full yet, and probably had many sectars before they would need to empty it to fit more, but by then she figured they would be free of the cylons, and she could ditch the big ice block without giving away their position to the enemy.

Before the war, no one thought twice about a waste system that vented to space until the twelve world's atmospheres started to get all mucked up, then they passed regulations requiring all passenger ships to recycle their waste. Long range cargo ships weren't required to meet the standards, yet many had installed the expensive recycling systems to avoid the enemy, be it cylons or pirates, from tracking them down. Large moving ships like the Rayanna with small crews didn't bother with the expense, but when her father had taken over, he had paid for it for the crew quarters. He ran a clean ship, but the cargo containers weren't really meant to hold people, just their belongs. The Galactica had seen that her ship was outfitted with something that resembled basic sanitation, but what to do with the collected waste was her problem.

The necessity of bathing and recycling the water, like many of the other problems on the ship, had been handled by the occupants. They had constructed turbowashes and located extra water. But what of some of the other problems? She'd had to deal with a few fights, but they had been easy to resolve with the Sires and Siresses on her ship stepping in with their verdicts and advice. Was there a problem with theft or other petty crimes that the civilians already handled without her knowledge? Maybe they had, and Mickey had been too busy to notice. Odds were the problems on the other ships were soon to be her problems as well. Her ship wasn't unique except the transfer of command. She might be the first, but she wouldn't be the last.

Mickey reached for her grog, gulping it to drown out the sour taste in her mouth only to choke on it.

"Easy there." Starbuck clapped her on the back before asking if she was okay.

She took another drink from the one he offered, downing that before setting the mug down like a gavel at a tribunal.

"So, we all have the same problems, but you have a lot more experience than I do at solving them. Why haven't you, other than making your own currency?"

Starbuck shot her a worried look, shaking his head no, but she ignored his warning.

"We've tried, but there's been one crisis after another. Who has time to deal with it all when you're elbow deep in mong from a broken sewage system?" Faisel answered.

"And your Captain facing tribunal," Talbot added

"Don't forget half your crew ill with something they don't want to admit they have," Rainer said.

"We are trying to, through the Council and are own Captain's meetings, but," Samuel said as he shook his head, "Everyone's worried that if you have too many problems, the military will just take over, or scuttle your ship for the resources or worse, hold another meeting where we just sit on our astrums and nothing gets done."

"We would have defeated the Cylons by now if we could find the right form," Starbuck joked, "and then we need to submit it in triplicate, run it through a committee, hold a vote, form a team. Then that team will have to hold a meeting, and put out the memos. We have won the war on paperwork and procedures."

Mickey nodded her head, remembering back to the hundreds of memorandums and notices waiting for her reply back on the Rayanna.

"Do you think that's why they are letting Captain Dastor have my ship. The other captains don't think I can handle her by myself?"

"Yours wasn't the one he wanted," Faisel said before going to the comm to order more drinks.

Mickey looked to Starbuck who peered at his cards nonchalantly avoiding her gaze. "So, who did he want, the Adrias? You have guns and the Agro ship has taken more damage than other vessels."

Samuel nodded to her then shook his head. "Yes and no. He just wants the guns but he wants the Kerniki's inventory and Baden's crew who have been working on their own hydroponics, and then he has his eyes set on the Simmah, diseased Sociolators and all."

"Why?" Mickey puzzled.

"I think the bigger question," Starbuck added tossing out a cubit for a bet, seeming to think they were still playing cards, "is why hasn't he asked to be brought closer to the Galactica for protection, or requested a squadron, or for that matter more workers, or engineers or anything. Instead he wants to move farther away requesting more ships around him, almost like a cover. He pretends its for protection, but like you said, only the Adrias has guns and not very many ordnances. It's almost like he's building his own fleet."

Mickey considered Starbuck's words as she remembered her father's boss who often said that there were only three things that motivated people.

"Fame, money and power, but in the end it all boils down to power. Money gives you the power over your own life and others. Fame gives you the power of recognition and the ability to make others jump when you say jump."

Mickey use to challenge the man's assessment with different scenarios, but the owner of Colonial Movers could resolve all of them with one word, power.

"But what about my father working hard to own his own ship. He doesn't want to run the company, just help out the employees who work under him." Mickey had tried to understand her father's boss since her dad respected him.

"Your father wanted to have power over his own time and schedule. He wanted the power to give more power to his employees."

"But I think he did it for love. He loves his ship and he did it for me because he loves me."

Mick had thought she would finally flummox him with that motivation, but the owner of Colonial Movers had patiently explained, "Love doesn't really exist. It's just the power to have what you desire. You'll see for yourself soon enough kiddo." She had stopped trying to win the ongoing debate when she found her father agreed with his boss, not just because he had to.

"But what about mom? Did you want to have power over her?" Mickey had challenged, trying prove her own point, but her father had just smiled.

"She had the power over me. Losing isn't always a bad thing."

Is that what she really wanted, power? Is that why she was going to fight to keep command of her father's ship? She didn't have power over her own time and she definitely couldn't do whatever she wanted. Being Captain just meant she was responsible for anything that went wrong, and if her crew couldn't finish a task, then she was the one who went without sleep until it was completed. It that was power, she could take being less powerful.

She looked to the gorgeous man beside her. What did he want? It wasn't power, he already had it with those beautiful eyes. Did she want to control him? Maybe if it meant he would kiss her once again and to actually mean it so she didn't have to wonder about his motivation. Her father may be right, it would be fun to lose some power to Starbuck, to forget her troubles and let him take the lead. But then that would mean she would lose her ship.

"He wants power," Rene said out loud. "And my ship won't be the last, just the first."

"The second," Baden corrected her. "He was Captain of another ship, but it was damaged after Carillon, scavenged and then abandoned. He took over the Agro ship after the last attack. The original Captain was really just a glorified farmer so he relinquished command.

"Was?" Mickey felt her blood go cold.

"He was killed in the last cylon attack."

Mickey nodded. It was a death that most of them faced head on in their unarmed ships built for business, not for war. But like any military commander, not one of them would consider abandoning their command even in the darkest hour. She would go down with her ship, not for the glory, but because it was hers and it's what her father would do.

She took the cubit she was fingering and tossed it onto the pile. "They can have my ship over my dead body."

Starbuck held up his hands waving her down. "Hold on. I don't want our second date to be your funeral. I don't look as good as you in black, so let's see if we can get this done without involving bloodshed."

"It may come to that if the Galactica gets involved. She has the firepower and the troops." Eryk said nodding to the Lieutenant."

"But we don't like to battle our own people, unless it's over a chancery table." Starbuck smiled laying down a winning hand.

"So, you wear the blaster because the Rising Star has an invasion of Centurions on a regular basis?" Talbot asked.

Starbuck didn't miss a beat, "I only wear this blaster because it makes me look good. I don't want to actually use it. I don't think any of my squadron could fire on a human."

"Let's hope we don't find out," Samuel replied. "We are going to try to make ourselves heard at the meeting tomorrow and we will take it to the Council of Twelve if needed, and to the Commander if necessary, as the military has the final say on anything we do, despite all the voting and councils."

"Yeah, I was thinking about that," Starbuck said leaning back and winking at Mickey. She nearly flinched at the flirtatious gesture tossed out in the midst of a debate that had become deadly serious. "You've already started to form your own council here, and several ships have tossed in their support for Captain McKayla. Adama is about to hold elections for the Council of Twelve now that our census of the civilians is completed. I think the fleet could use some new representatives that are more, well, representative of the actual configuration of the fleet. I suggest you put up your own candidate, maybe one that is young and would look good on the IFB."

Mickey laughed out loud. "The only suggestion I am taking from you is what we are drinking next round before I suggest I turn in for the night, alone."

"Not a bad idea," Samuel said ignoring Mickey's comments. "But we don't have time to wait for that. I have a better suggestion, one taken straight out the book of the word that Adama seems to be using as a guide."

As Samuel laid out his plan for a new form of government based on the same idea of tribes from ancient Kobol, Starbuck reached for her hand under the table. She found it hard to concentrate on all the details of creating a congress of representatives from every ship as his fingers rubbed lazy circles over her sensitive palm.

"It makes sense to dismantle the old way of the twelve worlds having a representative. Adama may support this as the Galactica is a mixed crew. I know the pilots will. We have crewmembers from every world, and even some of the worlds we have run across on our journey." Starbuck said before looking down to see he was out of cubits for the next bet. He untangled his hand from Mickey's and pulled his blaster tossing it on the table. "I'd bet my blaster on it."

"And if he doesn't agree?" Eryk asked.

The Lieutenant leaned back confidently, arms crossed behind his head. "We can cross that void when we come to it. Now if you'll excuse me Captains, this lowly Lieutenant promised this lovely lady a dance and a real date."

Mickey wondered who he was talking about when he got to his feet, then he held out his hand to her. She almost blurted out, "Oh, you meant me?" Instead she bit her tongue and tried to keep from blushing as she awkwardly waved good night to the other Captain's at the table.

She couldn't stop the heat from filling her chest as Starbuck led her down to the Astral lounge, a big grin lighting his features. "That went well!" He proclaimed. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, nothing at all."

Her father's ghostly voice echoed in her ears, "It's what you don't think you have to worry about that always bites you right on your astrum."


End file.
